[Weekend Essay 4 ]

ㅡWeekend Journey with My 85-Year-Old Mother – Episode 4

Fishcake Curry and a Street Market Rivalry

At 6:30 this morning, my mother called me.

> “Son, I don’t think I’ll go to the alley market today.
I have no strength left.
My back hurts so much, I couldn’t sleep last night.
I don’t feel like eating. I just… can’t do anything.”



My heart sank.
When she says she's not feeling well, it usually means she’s really in pain.
And when she says she’s not going to the market—it means something is truly wrong.
In the countryside, my mother's daily life revolves around the alley market.

I jumped in the car and drove straight down.
When I arrived, she was sitting in a chair,
silently staring at the television.
She didn’t respond when I spoke to her.
Even when I brought her side dishes, she barely touched them.

She didn’t say it,
but I could feel it—
everything felt burdensome to her today.
Her body and heart were both exhausted.

But as evening came,
she quietly began loading boxes onto her walker.

> “I’ll go anyway,”
she said softly,
and headed to the alley market with the lady next door.



When we arrived at the market entrance,
her longtime “rival,” my aunt, had already laid out her stall.
A full box of peaches, five bundles of lettuce,
young radish kimchi, tofu, seasoned eggplant—
everything was arranged beautifully and abundantly.

My mother said nothing.
She quietly laid out a few small dishes: stir-fried fishcake, curry, a few seasoned greens.
Customers gathered around my aunt’s stall.
I could see the disappointment in my mother’s eyes.

> “This is why I didn’t want to come...
I didn’t bring much,
and I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well today.”



Then, in a small whisper, she added,

> “But this fishcake curry... it’s really good, though.”



As the sun set and people began heading home,
my mother slowly packed up her unsold dishes.
Half the fishcake curry remained.
She pulled her walker and slowly made her way back down the alley.

As I prepared to return to the city for work,
I paused at the end of the alley to watch her from behind.

Her small, hunched shoulders—
yet her spirit remained unbent.

That image of her,
for some reason,
felt especially heartbreaking that day.

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Weekend Essay, Aging Mother, Alley Market, Korean Countryside, Family Life, Quiet Moments, Rural Life, Fishcake Curry, Elderly Stories, Mother Son Bond

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