A Quiet Week Before the Break Ends

Another week of the holiday went by, and not slowly. I finished the final classes of my first semester of postgrad, pulled together a draft of the third chapter of my thesis, and had the supervision meeting that comes with it. There will be rounds and rounds of edits ahead, and ethics approval is still a way off — but things are moving, more than they aren't.

The children had their own rhythms. English holiday programme, piano lessons, the pool. Now at intermediate, Min was busier still — a church camp, and afternoons out with friends. Four eleven-year-olds meeting at the mall, lunch in the food court, an animated film, sweet bubble tea. An ordinary afternoon that, to her, felt like an occasion.

With three meals a day at home, our table grew quieter. A single bowl of pasta on a weekday; on weekends, the kind of small, comforting plate I grew up with. One afternoon Min made fried rice — enough for everyone.

Another day we all went to the library and walked over to Sangsang, a Korean restaurant just nearby, for a warm bowl of sotbap. Rice in a stone pot, scorched crust at the bottom, grilled fish with crisp skin, tender tteok-galbi in its sweet glaze. Familiar tastes, filling us up properly. One day after another, the time kept going — steady, unremarkable, whole.