Last Day

I remember the rain on my first day of work here. It was a chilly day, that second day of February, and I wore my black slacks, ivory turtleneck and a black coat. The rain started coming in the afternoon. By the end of the work day, it started to pour, and the short but uncovered walk to the parking lot seemed impossible. I hesitated by the back door uncertain of what to do. A coworker, virtually a stranger I had just met that day, was kind enough to run through the rain and open the door to the back stairs of the parking structure in the alley.

Now on my last day, it is raining again. How appropriate...rain marking the beginning and the end of my chapter here.

071129

I came home after a small good-bye soiree with my co-workers at a wine bar next to the office. My mom came a few hours ahead of me to help out with the packing. I walked in, and the first thing she noticed is that I had a drink. Only a glass of wine, I uttered, barely. Then I turned around and broke down in tears. After a moment or two, she said, "it is your choice," in a matter-of-fact tone and resumed packing.

She had also come by two days before. Again, she came before I got home. I realized short time later that she had seen a keepsake of mine. She came across it not through snooping (that is just not what she does) but because of my carelessness. And being a brilliantly smart woman that she is, I instinctively knew that she figured out from the little that she saw what has been ailing me lately. She said nothing about what she saw. Absolutely nothing.

Will I ever achieve the strength and wisdom that she has? I may imitate, but such magnanimous integrity, I fear, is beyond my reach. But I do feel blessed that a woman of such character is my mother, that I am undeniably her flesh and blood, no matter how lacking I am.
The kitchen cabinets are empty. So are all three storage closets. Boxes after boxes are packed, stacked, and waiting in a zen-like posture within the surrounding chaos for the movers to show up Saturday morning. Only I am restless within the confines of a home that I am soon to abandon.

071127

Four days until my move to OC. I am not ready--and I don't mean that in terms of packing.

Lily Allen, Littlest Things

A Letter of Joy

즐거운 편지 - 황동규

내 그대를 생각함은
항상 그대가 앉아있는
배경에서
해가 지고 바람이 부는 일처럼
사소한 일일 것이나
언젠가 그대가 한없이 괴로움속을
헤매일때에 오랫동안 전해오던
그 사소함으로 그대를 불러 보리라

진실로 진실로
내가 그대를 사랑하는 까닭은
내 나의 사랑을 한없이 잇닿은
그 기다림으로 바꾸어 버린데 있었다.
밤이 들면서 골짜기엔 눈이 퍼붓기 시작했다
내 사랑도 언제쯤에선 반드시 그칠 것을 믿는다
다만 그때 내 기다림의 자세를 생각하는 것 뿐이다
그 동안에 눈이 그치고
꽃이 피어나고
낙옆이 떨어지고
또 눈이 퍼붓고 할 것을 믿는다.


A Letter of Joy - Dong-kyu Hwang

That I think of you
may be as insignificant as
the sun setting and the wind blowing
against the background of
where you are always seated,
but if and when you are lost
in the seemingly relentless misery
I shall call upon you
with that lingering triviality.

Truly, truly,
the reason I love you so
lies in having transformed my love
into an eternal wait.
The snow began to cover the valley by the night fall
My love will also find its end some day,
only I am thinking of how I will perceive my longing then
In the meantime I know
snow will melt
flowers will blossom
leaves will fall
and the snow will cover the valley yet again.

p.s. This is an entirely unauthorized translation, but it is how I interpret this poem, one of my favorites since junior high. I have long wondered about the meaning of the title, but it is yet to be understood.

071125

The apartment debacle of the weekend is finally over. I now have a home in Mission Viejo, the third safest city in the nation.