Email this sample to a friend

Like a living room in America, ‘Maru’ was the heart of my playground when I was little.

Next to me, there was always my grandma sitting~~~watching over me!

As I was looking toward the gate-entrance to see if my mom could come home from work, playing with little stones in the ‘Maru’, I often noticed that my grandma was fixating on the gated door with watering eyes.

It seemed as if my grandma was waiting for something or somebody.

She sat like a doll while her body was stiff, sitting as calm as the Buddha.

~~~staring!

~~~ intensely staring!

I often wondered whom or what she might be waiting for while watching me playing.

She might be waiting for her arrested brother to come home.

She might be waiting for her two missing daughters to come home.

She might be waiting for her Spring to come.

She might be waiting for the time when there would be no more wars.

She might be waiting for the time when there would be no more VIOLENCE.

Previous Page Next Page Page 2 of 16