My father's a big guy, to get there would be quite a bit of effort for him. I wanted to go instead, but he just wouldn't let me. I just had to give into my insistent father. I looked over at my father, in his black cloth cap, black knee-length robe and dark green cotton-padded jacket, teetering his way toward the railway and lowering his way down there, which wasn't too difficult. Yet, the difficult part was climbing up to the platform after crossing the tracks. He tightly placed his hands on the top of the platform, shrinking back his legs, his heavy body tilted slightly to the left. The sight was of a many trying his very best. As I took this scene in, looking at his back, my tears rushed down my face. I rushed to wipe away my tears, afraid of being seen by him, or by any others. When I look out again, he was already on his way back, carrying those bright tangerines.

After I settled in the north, he wrote a letter to me saying that: “I am well except for the pain in my shoulders. The pain makes eating and writing a little difficult. I think the end of my life is not too distant.” As I read this, thru my glistening eyes, I again see my father’s heavy figure in that dark blue turquoise robe. I sigh. I wonder when I shall see him again.