"Appreciation" and the related words to me, have a new definition. I'd muse on this, when Ryuuko gets up to her usual mischief or does something I tend to get annoyed with. I recall that she can't see very well and how her life was so altered. For me, "appreciation" is shaped around her name and the tumor that could have taken her away.
At times, when the house is quiet and, especially, when she's not home at the moment, my mind drifts to how things would be if she ultimately succumbed to her tumor. I get glimpses of memories, little snippets that build into a montage. In the halls, I hear her echoes of her laughter, the pattings of her footsteps, and her voice calling my name, little things she does around the house with the rhythmic tappings of her cane or, somehow, in shadows, I see clips of her dancing, though she doesn't know how to. Everything I think of is how she is, currently.
I think about some of the things she does that annoys me. I'd prefer it if she didn't wake up too early in the morning, if she didn't hide my things, or we didn't have our squabbles over some minuscule things. Thinking about it, in combinations of my memories and how she is currently, I think I appreciate those, too, rather, I appreciate the fact that she's still here to do those things as opposed to being taken away by a rare tumor.
"Appreciation" truly is defined by Ryuuko's name and her very continued existence. Frankly, I tend to feel sorry for the rest of the world who don't understand how I could enjoy her presence. No, society is rather unkind, certainly. Others mock her behind her back, they get annoyed with her awkwardness, and get frustrated with her should she ask for help. Somehow, she takes it all in stride and still keeps going. If anything, I wonder why they don't try to appreciate her as well or, at least, consider how her loved ones do.
I would be snapped out of my musings when I hear the door opening and hear her voice calling my name, with the almost metronomic tappings of her cane. I look at the clock. It was lunchtime. She's home right on schedule for her day's lunch was simple, just marmalade on toast, in the still afternoon hours. She tells me of her what she was doing outside of the house. Apparently, that morning was uneventful, but she talked about it anyways. The day after that, she'd be out with Mako, getting groceries.
I think about these mundane moments and think back to the word "appreciation".
Surely, my definition of such is correct.
Notes:
Meningiomas are rare in people around Ryuuko's age (her twenties), as mentioned in I Never Really Knew. They also aren't inherently fatal but the complications from them can kill.
—Amoridere