Traces and Storms

xxviii

   I stopped short in front of our gate, half-surprised, and half-overjoyed, upon seeing the lights in the living room were turned on. With shaky hands, I gingerly unlatched the lock, and took slow steps at first. Soon, my pace became faster, and the next thing I knew, I was running, and fumbling after the keypads, trying to remember what our door's passcode was. It felt strange—abnormal, even—to have this kind of anticipation. I never realized I waited for my parents to return. Not until I knew they've arrived. I dropped my bags on the floor, and kicked my shoes off. The turntable was turned on, playing a vinyl record. The needle's scratching was obvious, along with its minor imperfections, but it made the music all the more tender and warm. It was the very song that kept on playing during my vague childhood: 'Here Comes the Sun'.

"Mom?" I cried out. I looked into the kitchen. "Dad?"

I went upstairs. Their bedroom door was open, but there was no sign of them.

"Mom? Dad?"

I ran downstairs again, and opened our backdoor. The shed was open, and the huge spotlight dad installed by the wall just above the doorframe which connected the kitchen and the backyard was turned on. I found the both of them, rummaging the bin bags and crates which contained things that belonged to the past. They were in their house clothes, with Dad wearing a plain shirt and black trousers. Mom was wearing a pink hoodie, paired with gray yoga pants. It never occurred to me that I would run to close the distance between them, but I did that anyway. Dad was the one who saw me first, and with a smile so bright, he outstretched his arms, only to catch me in his tight embrace.

It was silent. I never showed that kind of affection toward them, and so did they. It was a new sensation for me. To hug, and be hugged back. To have Dad's stern face become soft, upon seeing me run to where they were.

"It's been so long," he said. "How's our daughter?"

I didn't reply. I just hugged him tighter, and I caught sight of Mom, standing behind him. She was smiling quietly.

When I let go, I breathed in a mouthful of air, and asked, "What are you doing here? Aren't you busy?"

"We decided to come home," Mom said simply. But from the way they were clearing the shed, they also wanted to have some spring cleaning done. I found it strange, considering throughout the years, they would simply hire someone to do that tedious task for them. Not only that, but it was quite late, as well. Surely they could've waited until tomorrow. "We took our annual leave at the same time. Your father and I."

"I see," I muttered, still trying to find out why they were out in the shed.

"Are you hungry, Suji-yah?" Dad asked. "Where have you been?"

"Samcheong-dong," I answered. "To take some photographs."

He smiled. "Was Myungsoo with you?"

Something clawed at my heart, the moment I heard Dad say Myungsoo's name out loud. With a tiny smile, I shook my head. "I went there spontaneously. I wasn't able to inform him beforehand."

They urged me to go inside and prepare the rice afterwards, saying they would cook supper after arranging the shed. I said I could cook for them, but they refused, telling me I should just get some rest.

"Let us spoil you for once," Mom said, and that was that.

I quickly prepared the rice, and returned to the living room. A different song was playing, but it was still by The Beatles. I changed the record by then, choosing an album by Coldplay. 'Don't Panic' came on, and I went to the doorway, grabbing the bags I dropped. I placed my laptop on the coffee table in the living room, before proceeding upstairs to put my camera back in its shelf. I took a paperback I was currently reading, and headed back downstairs.