[Memoir Part 1] Ep.14 – The Reason I Kept Taking the Long Way Around

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"There were things I wanted too much, and things I did not have the courage to return. So I kept taking the long way around." Image generated by AI by Author In science class, the teacher told us to bring milk for an iodine experiment. I asked Father for the money, but he waved it off. “Go to your eldest cousin’s shop. Tell his wife, and she’ll give you a bottle.” My steps felt heavy on the way there. No matter how much I searched my pockets, I couldn’t find a single coin. At the shop in the lower village, my cousin’s wife was always there, standing behind the counter with her baby tied to her back. I lingered at the entrance for a long time before I finally stepped inside and stammered my request. She went to the back of the shop and brought out a glass bottle of milk. “Make sure you bring the empty bottle back,” she said more than once. I gave a small nod. I had to return it. One day passed, then two. I kept telling myself I would take it back soon. But by the end of a wee...
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[Memoir Part 1] Ep.2 – I Watched the World from a Small Place

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"In the middle of it all, I stood completely alone."

Image generated by AI by Author


"People as small as matchsticks moved back and forth.
To me, it was a village in the Land of Lilliput."
Just outside the room, the dirt yard lay one step below the house. It took only a few small strides to cross it. Here and there, a few stubborn weeds pushed up through the earth, having survived the long winter.

In one corner of the yard, a flat stone was set halfway into the ground. When the ice in its cracks finally melted and the sun began to warm its surface, I would crouch there, folding into myself. I stayed for a long time, letting the warmth of the stone seep into my body.

From there, the world beyond the sea opened up. Cars, small as toys, moved slowly across the bridge. On the blue water, motorboats—what wecalledtong-tong-bae—drifted along, leaving white trails behind them, their engines chugging softly.

If I shifted my gaze, I could see houses packed tightly along the steep hillside. Between them, people as small as matchsticks moved back and forth. To me, it was a village in the Land of Lilliput. I sat there for hours, watching those tiny lives in silence. In that world, no one ever looked back at me.

That March, when the last of the cold wind lingered in the warmth of the sun, I started elementary school. The playground was filled with children clinging to their parents’ hands. Pinned to each chest was a white handkerchief, folded and fluttering like a small flag. Now and then, a child would grab it and blow their nose with a loud honk.

In the middle of it all, I stood completely alone.

The classroom was crowded with heavy wooden desks. The teacher lined us up in the hallway by height and seated us starting from the front. My seat was in the first row, directly under her gaze.

Whenever the teacher stepped out, the room burst into noise. I sat in the middle of it, unable to join in, just watching. There was one girl, dressed in something as bright as spring flowers. Her shoes gleamed, clicking lightly against the floor. I watched her back, drawn to the smooth, shining fabric. I wanted to reach out and touch it, just once.

Then I looked down at myself. A brick-colored sweater with sleeves roughly rolled up. Black pants, the knees stretched out. Navy sneakers, worn thin at the toes. That was my whole world.

During gym class, we lined up on the playground. The sun poured down on our heads, and long shadows stretched out beneath our feet. I kept looking down at the shadow clinging to my toes. With my hair in two thin braids, the shadow looked small and frail, with only the hips sticking out awkwardly. I shuffled my feet, trying to blur its shape.

Even while running with the other children, I kept looking down at my shadow. The teacher blew the whistle, and we stopped. On the other side of the playground, another class was playing inside a court marked with lines. Balls flew back and forth inside those lines. Soon we were standing on those lines too. For some reason, I hated following them.

When the game began, balls came flying from every direction. I could never hold out for long. I was always one of the first to step outside the line. Balls hit my head, or slammed into my protruding hips without mercy. I heard some children laughing. My face burned, and I ran out of the court in a hurry.

On the dusty ground, my black shadow lay flat. I rubbed it with the tip of my shoe. I knew it would not change. Still, my foot would not stop.I was always like that.
I was more comfortable looking into the world from the outside than standing inside it.


Read this story in Korean (한국어 버전 읽기)

About this series:
These stories are part of my childhood memoir about growing up poor in 1970s South Korea.
Thank you for reading.

Keep Reading the Journey.
Start from the beginning:

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