KyungOk: The name I had forgotten

I am reading over my own Blog and am thinking about my sister, KyungOk. My mind is searching for her as it flips through my early years, until at last, I pull forth a very special file. You see, all these years, my mind has kept it apart from the rest of my memory box. My brother, KyungJin, has been residing there by her side as long as I can remember. It was during those stormy and lonely days that I would run to my room, close my eyes and pull from my mind this very file. It contained only a few short memories and images of my sister and brother. I tried many times to browse through my mind in hopes to encounter and rescue their missing pieces. Every time I looked, all I found was nothing.

I turned to the few memories of my sister, KyungOk, during those early years in America. No terrible questions, anger, resentment, loss, or pain hid inside this space. It only kept a few treasured pieces of images that brought me back to her. My mind was clever. Once in it's grasp, it did not let go. For it knew that if the thoughts escaped, there would be no tracing them. A nameless file that held my happiness and covered me with it's warmth. My only wish was to know her name. To be able to call out her name when I needed her the most.

Many nights before my mother would turn off the lights, I sat on my bed writing down in Hangul all their names, words I knew, and my favorite Korean foods. Then, the void rushes forth and everything turns to dark. I cannot remember her name. I cannot see her face. It frustrates me. I know I have to keep trying and keep writing my Hangul so it would come back to me. I sit there writing until my mother walks in and tells me to sleep. She smiles at my Hangul and tucks me in. She kisses me and turns away. I close my eyes and dream of her. It is here, where I no longer need to be sullen over my nameless sister. I am connected to her. She who is living with strangers like myself. Thinking the same thoughts. Wondering when we would go home.