I went to the US embassy in Seoul couple
days ago for a Visa interview. The way there was not too bad as it was a single subway ride. I had on a new shirt, the weather was nice and I had absolutely no problems during the interview.
The place was near where my grandma lived, so I
decided to drop by. My grandmother lived in a rather silver community. There was a small market place, but the neighborhood was relatively quiet, just a couple of schools and students here and there. I had never spent much time there, but my brother did. He probably has a greater attachment there, but nonetheless, I did feel a sense of nostalgia lingering. As I
got off the subway, I started hoping that I would get to see my grandpa on my walk there.
For any old man that walked by, I would inadvertently look to see if it were my
grandfather, the one who died several months ago. Habits and some false hope. I started to wonder why there was so much hurt in the world.
Then, I began to hope. I would like to believe God is really funny. I bet He is hilarious. I bet we will get to laugh off all our
tears when we get back home, into His presence.
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