High above me, the last of the morning stars are winking out sadly. They flash their last bling-silver grains of sand in the dawn sky. I sigh as their bejewelled brilliance fade into nothingness. The afternoon sky has already painted Van Gough’s Starry Night, as orbs of light swirl in the lavender and blue canvas. A ghostly, winter moon hangs there, imitating a pale strobe light. A corona of shimmering yellow rings it 's dying glory. The sky around it is a wide sheet of grate-grey, hemmed in the horizon with a plum-purple tinge.
As soon as the vermillion sun dipped behind the skyscrapers of Seoul, I lose interest in the outside world, fiddling with the black seat belt that straps me into the backseat. “Are we not going to grandmother’s?” I whine, holding my small white stuffed bear by its arms. “We are,” my mother looked into me from the rearview mirror. …show more content…
Her hair is wizened and straw-like, nearly fossilized. Racked with ague and gnarled with age, her knotted fingers grip the sheets, even her fingernails were brown and worn.
“Mom, how old is great-grandmother?” I tug at her blouse.
She whispers, “She’s turning 99 in the fall.” My mom gently shakes her hand, hoping to wake her up from her mid-day nap. “Hal-mon-ni,” she whispers to the snoring scarecrow under the sheets. “Your granddaughter is here.” The woman scrunches her eyes and peeked out from under the covers. “You’re not my nurse. Did she get fired? She was a nice one, unlike the previous nurse,” she groans, her tree root fingers twisting the sheets.
A small sound escapes her throat, something low and feathery, and for a second I think that she might bawl. That would’ve ended it. I would’ve gripped my mother’s hand tighter than before. But she keeps control. She swallows the sound and forces a smile, shaking my hand away. “It’s your granddaughter, Younsoo,” she reminds her. Suddenly, the old lady sits up straight immediately, as if new life is breathed into
As soon as the vermillion sun dipped behind the skyscrapers of Seoul, I lose interest in the outside world, fiddling with the black seat belt that straps me into the backseat. “Are we not going to grandmother’s?” I whine, holding my small white stuffed bear by its arms. “We are,” my mother looked into me from the rearview mirror. …show more content…
Her hair is wizened and straw-like, nearly fossilized. Racked with ague and gnarled with age, her knotted fingers grip the sheets, even her fingernails were brown and worn.
“Mom, how old is great-grandmother?” I tug at her blouse.
She whispers, “She’s turning 99 in the fall.” My mom gently shakes her hand, hoping to wake her up from her mid-day nap. “Hal-mon-ni,” she whispers to the snoring scarecrow under the sheets. “Your granddaughter is here.” The woman scrunches her eyes and peeked out from under the covers. “You’re not my nurse. Did she get fired? She was a nice one, unlike the previous nurse,” she groans, her tree root fingers twisting the sheets.
A small sound escapes her throat, something low and feathery, and for a second I think that she might bawl. That would’ve ended it. I would’ve gripped my mother’s hand tighter than before. But she keeps control. She swallows the sound and forces a smile, shaking my hand away. “It’s your granddaughter, Younsoo,” she reminds her. Suddenly, the old lady sits up straight immediately, as if new life is breathed into