Year of Impossible Goodbyes Read Free Page A

bowl, she gently ground the petals with a pestle until they turned into a fragrant red paste. Then she made ten tiny balls of paste and put one on each of my fingernails. I sat very still with my fingers spread as far apart as I could to make it easier for Mother. She wrapped each fingernail with a large sesame leaf and tied each fingertip carefully with red yarn, trying not to let the red paste touch any of the skin of my fingers. I went around all day with my fingers spread apart so as not to disturb anything. I looked as if I was carrying ten precious little packages, one on the tip of each finger, and Mother smiled That night I went to sleep with my arms stretched out to the sides so that none of the sesame leaves would come off. The scent of faint azaleas and sesame leaves tilled the room, and I went to sleep swearing not to move an inch.

    Of course, some of the sesame wrappers had come off by morning and some of the pink liquid had run down my fingers. Mother and I laughed. Not only my nails, but a few of my fingers were entirely red. But after washing them very carefully for several days, only my fingernails remained a deep pretty pink. I showed my elegantly decorated fingernails to everyone. Later, I watched with fascination as my nails grew out.
    1 had once told Aunt Tiger about my pretty pink nails, hoping that she and I could venture out and plant a secret garden somewhere. She just looked at me and repeated what Captain Narita had said. "Korean women have no time for that nonsense." Then she sighed and said, "When the war is over you can plant the whole yard with flowers." She went to her room and brought me a bundle wrapped in a yellowed handkerchief. I opened it and saw packages of seeds with pictures of sunflowers, pansies, and many other flowers that I could not identify. I kept them together with Mother's packets to plant when the Japanese left. I knew Mother would find some azaleas somehow.
    Mother looked at me and smiled. She didn't know what I was daydreaming about. Or maybe she did. "Doesn't this pine tree smell good?" she said. "It's like a different world sitting beneath this tree." I smiled and nodded. We didn't talk of the flowers and garden we could not have.
    I looked at Aunt Tiger, who was unusually quiet. She was very different from Mother, who was tall, slender, and elegant. Aunt Tiger was stocky and round. She didn't go quietly about her duties, always trying to make the best of everything, as Mother did. She spoke her mind, and often complained bitterly. I thought it refreshing to hear her complain, for she so often said what I was feeling.

    At night Aunt usually grew sad and pensive. She didn't get angry or complain about our lives or about the cruelty of the Japanese. Instead, she told the most wonderful stories about the animals that lived in the forests of Korea long ago. All the wild animals in her fables talked as if they were human. She was especially fond of telling stories of the majestic tigers that used to roam the Korean mountains until the Japanese hunted them down for their skins.
    Aunt told us so many wonderful stories of these clever talking tigers that we began calling her Aunt Tiger. I could never forget the tears in her eyes as she told us about the mother tiger who roamed the mountains in search of her cubs, not knowing they had been killed by hunters. Her voice trembled as she spoke, and I felt as if she were talking about her own babies. As I looked into her mournful eyes, I wondered if she complained so bitterly to hide her sorrow from us. She didn't want to be weak, and I knew how strong she was. It was a different kind of strength from Mother's.
    As we worked, the sun began to set and darkness fell. The whirring of the machines suddenly stopped and I heard the low murmuring of the girls as they emerged from the factory and stretched their stiff, aching muscles. Mother, Kisa, and Aunt wished them a safe trip home. The tired girls looked sad but relieved to have made it