A son's meal. No mother's words
A son's meal. No mother's words
Before the weekend comes, I become a weekday person again.
Meetings and appointments, backlogs, tired evenings...
But on Friday night, one of my inner senses wakes up.
The next morning, the tension and waiting to meet my mother.
I open my eyes without an alarm, and head to the kitchen as a habit.
Doenjang bulgogi, stir-fried zucchini, kelp broth,
And I pack stir-fried anchovies that were left in the previous night.
leaving behind his wife, who smiles without saying anything
He quietly heads to the parking lot.
The radio turns on the nagging of yesterday's news.
But my nerves are focused on the side dish bag of the passenger seat.
A familiar DJ's voice is playing.
"Who are you going to meet now?"
The question lingers in my mind for no reason.
I think maybe,
I'm not going there for my mom
Maybe I'm going because I want to be safe.
When you arrive, the gate is open.
As expected, you're awake before me.
I can see the small gesture of my mother standing in the pepper field.
"You're here."
A short greeting.
But that's enough.
Soybean paste stew is already bubbling in the kitchen
I take out the carefully prepared side dishes.
But my mother pushes the side dishes without saying anything.
"This is salty."
"I don't know what's in it."
Sometimes they clean it up without saying anything.
I'm used to that reaction now.
It's good just to be able to eat together next to you.
After eating, he goes to the pepper field without fail.
My mother, who packed a basket, and I, wearing gloves, stand together.
"What are you going to do if you finish this?"
"What can I do, if you let go of your hands, you'll get old."
stubbornness and affection in indifferent words.
I read it now.
I saw my brother who arrived around lunch time
My mother's face softens a little.
a look of gladness and tiredness.
I quietly move aside.
My brother and mother talk in the kitchen.
"I don't like the side dishes you brought."
The mother turns on the gaslight without replying to her younger brother's joke.
I laugh, too. I shouldn't have gone outside
Look up at the sky.
On the way back, my back is stiff.
But what my mother said today holding my hand tightly remains for a long time.
> "Every time you come, I feel like I have to live a little longer."
The car contains heavy bean sprout salad, dried radish leaves soup, and peppers that my mother packed.
The side dish bag of the passenger seat is also heavy.
I think I only did "mimicking my filial son" this time,
My mother packed the bag for me.
Saturday night, when I get home
I'll be a husband and father again
I go back to my daily routine on weekdays.
but
Every weekend
I'm a 'son' again.
No one's husband, no one's father
There's only one thing,
Go back to being a mother's son.
> "I mimicked my filial son again today,
Today, my mom
You are ready to show off me."
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Weekend with Mom / Korean Village Life / Aging with Grace / Simple but Warm Meals / Sons and Mothers / Family Time / Stories of Love / Quiet Country Mornings