A Story of my Numbers

One Memory in Each Number

Shall I tell a story of my numbers.

I, who am not good at remembering them,

yet carry and keep these numbers in my heart.

No.1

On your first birthday after I gave birth,one candle I placed on the cake.

A number that brought a special experience of life.

Among all numbers, 1 was the happiest of all.

777. Triple seven.

An important number to me.

The password to my teen age's diary with a tiny lock.

Three lucky numbers were enough back then.

The first bus I ever rode alone,

my middle school bus, No21.

It felt like my first step into standing on my own.

A single bus number, remembered for decades.

No 20.

An age that felt like it would last forever.

I dreamed vaguely of becoming an adult,

believing life would be amazing when I reached it.

A number that still makes my heart flutter.

The age my father passed away

was carved into my memory,

yet became strength,

and quietly, a hope.

Eighty-eight.

My age, fifteen.

At a church youth retreat,

the day I met the Lord—

no, the day the Lord came looking for me.

Numbers only I once knew,

numbers you now know as well.

This is my story of numbers.

*these are my own paintings*