The Ones We Love

Baby Sister

I rushed inside the door, flinging the wornout black school shoes on the floor, not bothering to put it in the shoe rack. I ran to moms room, running pass the kitchen, which was usually the first place I would go. My heart pounded through my chest, as if it was going to exlode. I slowly turned the doornob, careful not to wake up the person that has now joined our family.

"Mom, I'm back," I whispered, gingerly placing the bag next to the door.

"Yeji, you're back from school! How was your day?" Mom asked, as she saw me walk over to her bed.

"It was great! I couldn't stop thinking about Yunjeong! I could barely even concentrate during class and I was so eager to go home and see her! You can't believe how--"

"Ok, ok, Yeji. Calm down. The baby's sleeping. Here, come closer so you can see her," She said, beaming me a smile. She scooched a little to the left, until I could see Yunjeong wrapped in a towel, sleeping peacefully. I sat on the bed, stroking her short, soft hair that was tucked neatly behind her ears. I burried my face in her hair, which smelled clean and soapy from her bath. The plumpness of her cheeks, tempted me to kiss her.

"Mom, you know, before you were pregnant with Yunjeong, I prayed for a younger sister. I was so lonely because Minjeong wouldn't play with me. I promised God I wouldn't treat her the way Minjeong treated me. I told him I would love her with all my heart." I said, as I lied on the bed.

"And God listened to you," Mom replied, reading my mind. I nod, feeling the strong love for Yunjeong. She lies asleep, and I am awake, thinking of what she will become, what we will do together, how much she will love me. I hope to drift off soon, but I can't, because of the distraction going on in my head.

I look up at the ceiling, playing the scene, where Yunjeong comes running to me, with a toy in her hand.

Covered Up in Regrets

Mom--who had a dream, but couldn't make it- regrets her past. She was the kind of student who would raise her hand, high up in the air, asking questions during the class. And A student, the intelligent girl, who dreamed up being a diplomat, is here, stuck, trapped, lonely, and tired... The dreams can't be glued together; it has broken to millions of pieces, when Dad met her and stole her heart. Mom's life in his hands, her dreams crushed by the big waves. Mom, the singer, the cooker, the artist, knows how to make a crown out of flowers. Mom, who always loved to see grandma cook, wished to turn on the kettle, but couldn't, because she didn't let her. Mom, who goes to the library once a week, reads books that take her to a journey, whether it grips her heart, or tears it apart.

Today, while getting ready to sleep, there she is, standing by the door.

"Don't let go your dreams slip away from your fingers Yeji. No matter what stands in your way," Mom says.

Mom--who tells her daughters never to be like her, prays for them day and night. Mom--who worries about her increasing white hair, is studying to be a physiologist. She says she doesn't care how old she is, or how long it will take her to achieve her goal, ties her dream tightly to her wrist.

Never, never turn into a person like me, the word echoes in my ear.

I Want to Be Like You

My cousin's name is Ham Ryeong Kim, but everyone calls her Hammi. She is conscientious, prudent, serene, and optimistic. You tell me to depict her, I will. Hammi--Uncle Won's second daughter, god's child, is adopted, beginning her life with parents not her own, but still she is loved. She smiles day and night, when the leaves fall, when the sky thunders, when the sun sets, her smile never fades away. Hammi--who has the face that makes every guy go crazy, never admits her beauty. Her face, the masterpiece, a diamond, a crystal, the rainbow, wears a mask, a mask that covers her sorrow. Her personality flows like the pacific ocean, shines like the sun, warm like a mothers hug, funny like a comedian. Hammi--the girl who never gets rankled, is so humble, I wish to be like her. Her parents never confiscate her cellphone, because she listens, respects, and obey. Hammi--the A student, is never lackadaisical about work.

I want to be like you. You ignore insults, the gossip, the guys, absorbs the chaos around you, and live a life with a smile, laugh, and hope. You stop when you see your friend cry, an injured person, a poor guy begging for food. You give the beggar 50 cents, along with your smile, your heart, and Gods word. I want to be like you.

Nobody's Like You

My Mom is my handkerchief, my umbrella, my jacket, the roof of the house. My mom is a kangaroo, always protective, loving, tender, unselfish, who makes sacrifices for its young. She is the big wave that crashes onto me, big pressure, as I drown, unable to rise above water. My mom is a lion, the queen of the jungle. We respect her, honor her, listen to her, and love her. She is the nurse, having the ability to heal my wounds, calm my fear, so that I can face the world feeling safe and secure. My mom is my friend, a chauffeur, my teacher, my encourager, my role model. She is the weather: rainy, sunny, cloudy, thundering, or snowing. Sometimes her voice is as sweet as cotton candy, but sometimes, she makes the world freeze, her voice reverberates in the silence. My mom is the goddess, Aphrodite. She loves me like a mother, like a friend, like a goddess. She wears a smile when she's happy, and also when she's sad. Sometimes, when leaves turn brown and orange, when chilly breeze travel the city, she wishes to be a Ferrari, a cheetah, a Porsche, the light, running away from the worries that holds her leg.

One day, when I got back from school, I saw you beside your bed, crying like a little kid. I saw your eyes shut, praying to God, mumbling something I couldn't hear. I came to you, to be a shoulder to rely on, your friend, your nurse, your encourager, your handkerchief, just like you were to me.

Don't cry Mom, please don't cry, I said. I wiped your tears with my sleeves, and you looked at me with her your eyes soaking with tears. I whispered in your ears, I love you mom.

She Remembers

She remembers the day her father sat on the corner of her bed, telling her she has to go to Korea to live with her grandparents for a month. She remembers her mother hugging her thin, fragile body, telling her she has to study in America, while Dad works in Africa. She remembers the steaming tears rolling down her rosy cheeks, holding onto her fathers leg, pleading him to let her stay in Sweden, promising him she would be a good girl. But her father just looked at her, biting his lips.

She remembers when she finally arrived in Korea, the beautiful hibiscus flowers welcoming her, so many stores that light the road, her eyes wide open, everything so new to her. She remembers seeing grandma and grandpa, hurrying out the door, smiling so brightly, as if they won the lottery. She remembers their hugs embracing her, squishing her body, she thought her bones were about to break. She remembers hearing them laugh and cry on her shoulders, as she wondered if that was possible. She remembers the small but cozy house, no toys, no barbies, no teddy bear, nothing that could entertain her. She remembers sleeping with her grandparents, loud snores that frightened her, as she cried under the covers, afraid the buggie monster would come get her. She remembers hearing her grandma singing the lullaby, waiting for her to go back to sleep. She remembers feeling her grandma's existence, her body heat, as she eyes drift away.

She remembers the sweet smell that pervaded the house every morning, tempting her to go to the kitchen. She remembers her grandma's addicting dumplings, devouring mouthfuls of them. She remembers grandma braiding her hair, not in a ponytail her mother did. She remembers seeing a girl in the mirror, a girl who looked like Pocahontas. She remembers sitting on her grandpa's strong neck, holding his rough but warm hand, as they went up the hill to go to her kindergarten. She remembers helping her grandparents pull out persimmons out of it's tree, the chilly breeze freezing her tiny hands. She remembers it's scrumptious taste melting inside her mouth.

She remembers one day, looking out the dusty window, the snow covering the outside world like a white blanket, the icy wind conquering the village. The phone startled her, as she turned back to pick it up. She remembers hearing the phone say, "We'll take you back to Sweden with us tomorrow." She remembers her heart dropping, her body paralyzed.

She remembers the next day, her grandparents hugging her, crying on her shoulders, as they handed her 20 dollar bill, telling her to buy anything she wished. She remembers putting it safely in her pocket, as whispered in their ears, "Thank you, grandma and grandma. I love you."

This Year, I hope to be more understanding

Dad, you come home late, dark circles under your eyes, and you walk slowly towards your room and collapse onto the bed. I complain, you listen, I complain, you nod, I complain some more, but you don't shout at me. You say you understand, but I say you don't.

You've taught me life lessons, you've taught me how to handle problems, you make me feel protected, you pass word of wisdom. You're like a sun to me, always there, beaming light and warmth to my life. But still I would complain, to an innocent person like you, as if the love you gave me was not enough.

This year, I hope to be more understanding. I'll greet you with a warm smile, when you come back from work, I will respect you, because you are my rock and sun.

This year, I hope to be more understanding. I'll let you sleep when you're tired, I'll listen to you, I will not complain.

You give me shelter of care, you've taught me what's right and wrong, and lead our house, with instructions from the bible.

This year, I will be more understanding, and I will do my best to be your first class daughter.

You Are Loved

You call my name, Yeji, when I come back from school, your hug warmer than a blanket, embraces me. Your hair, has beautiful waves and curls, your eyes, big, and the color of dark chocolate, shines like the moon. You cry, you scream, you hit your older sister, you disobey her, you take her stuff, destroy them, step on them, and anger rises from me. But then I see your face, your beautiful, cute face, and all is forgiven. You make everyone stop, just to plant a kiss on your forehead. The way you walk, the way you laugh, the way you eat your food, the way you sleep, attracts every people who pass by. I'm proud to be your sister, even though you eat my cookies, hide my stickers, and tattle tale on mom. You are loved, you are unique, you are adorable, because you are my sister, Chloe. You come in my room, just to hug me, just to give me a candy. You cry when you see unknown people, when mom isn't there beside you. I comfort you, I hold you, and put you on the bed for you to sleep. Your eyes drift off.

Sleep tight, my dear sister, sleep tight. Tomorrow await you.