Raindrops began turning gold-like. Gradually, the streets were turning orange. Against the blue sky stood the aging trees, almost bald. Time dashed so fast. Here is September once again.

Along the busy street of Yeondong, there was already a traffic jam. Two hours had passed and we are not yet at grandma’s house.

“We’re here!” Appa cheered.

My legs hurt as I stepped out of the car. After 2 hours, we finally reached grandma’s home— enormous as it was. Our relatives came out welcoming us with warm hugs.

A small white kid summoned me with his hands to join them at the backyard. Smiling, I ran after him leaving Appa and the others.

The backyard was in a complete silence. My cousin was there standing, no one else to discover. A moment later, sound of running feet noised the whole place. Then arms began surrounding me, wrapping me persistently.

“Hyunho oppa!”

“Hyung! Hyunho Hyung!” Amidst the heavy hands grabbing me, joy filled my lips knowing how these little kids missed me. All those little faces lightened up with happiness I cannot describe.

Right at the door, I could see the women in the kitchen cooking, preparing various meals which we often ate back at home. I recalled what mom told me that the food was eaten by our ancestors. One dish was a rice cake steamed with pine needles molded artistically into crescent shapes. As they scoop for some flour, each girl closed her eyes as if they were making a wish.

Omma spoke up, “Do you know why you’re pretty?” asking Noona.
“Because I made pretty songpyeon when I was your age,” She continued on.
– yup, it’s called Songpyeon, I remembered— the magical rice cake that help you give birth to a beautiful daughter, as the saying goes.

“Candles on both sides!” Whispers outside the room woke me up from the thoughts. At the living room, there stood a small table covered with stacks of fruits and food, unarranged. The guys were struggling on setting it up. Moving the stands to their positions the boys chuckled in relief.

A while later, the kiddos came in. They were just on time for the ceremony. Suddenly, the big guys were on their knees. In front of the table, they bent down slowly; their heads touching the floor. They stood up then bowed down again. I remember in one class: Mr. Jeapil said bowing means respecting our ancestors, as well as a gesture of gratitude for the abundant harvest. This is called Sungmyo.

After the ceremony, everyone gathered around the dining table and ate lavishly. I forked some songpyeon to eat. The tasty sesame with red beans and sugar was as sweet as it tasted the first time I ate one. I was unconsciously eating them because I was attentive to the grown-up’s stories.

After the meal, I got inside Appa’s car together with the family and stared out the window. Morning was in its usual brightness heating up against the bald trees. The pavement was gold.

The kids dashed out of the car when we finally arrived. The wide field was populated with high grass-covered mounds. I knew one was Haraboji’s tomb. The grown-ups started Bulcho by uprooting overgrown grass around grandpa’s grave. In front of the grave, Uncles Hong-Su and Dae-Heui did Charye through setting up a small table. It looked like the set-up table yesterday. However this time, the guys weren’t confused with the position of the dishes. Then they lit up two candlesticks standing on both sides. Right after, Uncle Hong-Su poured alcohol into the clear glasses. The big guys were on their knees again, slowly bowing down twice. I see, it was process—neat and orderly.

I sat far watching my once-again-gathered family. As I stared in thought I heard a warm familiar voice ask, “What makes you stare at the sky so long?”

I thought deeper trying to find the right words.

Still staring at bright sky, I uttered softly, “I’m just asking God if he can bring back the day, or make the days come by faster; so that the next day, I would see Appa standing at the door again waiting for me. That I have another three days to spend with him and my family.”

He wrapped me with his long arms. I felt the warmth of his love. With his usual bright smile he said, “I hope it would be like that as well. I wish every day were Chuseok. No more, no less.”

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