Home Talk Free Talk Tears in America (14) This topic has [4] replies, 0 voices, and was last updated 1 week ago by 고양이자세. Now Editing “Tears in America (14)” Name * Password * Email Topic Title (Maximum Length 80) <strong>Two More Sisters Enter Our Family</strong> Not long after we moved to the marketplace, the two younger sisters I had suddenly became four. The third was born, and before we had even settled into life with her, the fourth arrived two years later. In what felt like a breadth, our small family expanded into a noisy, bustling household. With every new child, the rhythm of our days grew more hectic, and on weekends when I wasn't in school, I sometimes stepped in for my mother, keeping an eye on the babies as they crawled around the room. Most of those moments have faded from memory, but one scene remains vivid. I would lie on my back, place a baby on my shins, hold their tiny arms, and lift them gently up and down. Each time I raised them, they burst into bright, bubbling laughter. The third did that. So did the fourth. Their joy was simple, immediate, and complete--something I didn't appreciate then, but remember now with a kind of tenderness. Much later, I learned from my grandmother why my father kept trying for more children. Having only one son made him uneasy; he wanted another. Considering how difficult it must have been to raise five children with so little, the fact that he tried anyway shows just how deeply Korean society valued sons at the time. From his perspective, though, he must have felt a quiet disappointment: more children, yes, but not the second son he had hoped for. But now, with decades gone by--my mother gone, my father at ninety--I find myself seeing the story differently. In the end, my father had unknowingly prepared for the future. I, the eldest and the only son, struggled just to manage my own life and drifted away from my parents when they needed support. Meanwhile, the youngest--who had not been born a son--became the one who stayed by their side in their final years. My other sisters also took turns caring for them, but the youngest carried the longest stretch of that responsibility. Had she not been born, my parents' old age would have been far more difficult. And so the irony becomes clear only in hindsight. The son my father had pinned his hopes on could not even take care of himself, let alone his parents, while the daughters he had once been disappointed about became the ones who supported him and my mother in their twilight years. What would have happened if those daughters--especially the youngest--had never entered our family? Life never reveals its future in advance. We only understand its logic when we look back. I agree to the terms of service Update List
