The Winter of My Childhood

The Winter I Remember

The winter of my childhood began in the alleys,
narrow, winding streets where
winter piled up layer upon layer,
and friends I played with
were everywhere.

White smoke from coal briquettes
drifted between the alleyways,
and the clear laughter of children
playing without gloves
rang out everywhere.

Beneath our feet, the frozen snow
crunched sharply,
and the winter air, biting and cold,
pushed us out of warm rooms
to the call,
“Come on, let’s play!”

We rubbed our hands together,
blowing warm breath upon them,
our cheeks rosy in the midwinter chill,
yet like the footprints left in the snow,
our memories stretched on
until the sun went down.

Red bean buns, steamed buns, hotteok —
treats shared in the cold that
we could never replicate today.
Short days and long nights,
slipping under the blankets brought
a simple, perfect happiness.

Night deepened over the winter streets,
yet with each other’s warmth,
we endured the cold,
that winter of long ago,
the winter I knew as a child.

*these are my own paintings *