From the Editor
The only clue I had to the grandmother I never knew.
In 2022, among the belongings left by my late mother, I found my grandmother’s diary. My grandmother died of pneumonia when my mother was only about eighteen months old. Because of this, neither my mother nor I ever knew her. This diary was the only clue through which I could come to know her.
The paper, nearly one hundred years old, was badly damaged. The writing had faded, and many parts were difficult to read. Old characters, cursive handwriting, family records, and local annual customs—each small mystery became part of the notes and commentary in this book.
As I deciphered the words and searched through records, the girl my grandmother once was began to feel close to me. Her monochrome everyday life slowly took on color.