Sung’s mother nodded but didn’t say anything about the fact that there would be nothing left for the grandmother. They both knew her fate. As soon as her family left, the grandmother intended to eat one last good meal and then lie down to die.
They said goodbye in the courtyard of their humble house, getting down on their knees to bow until their foreheads touched dirt. The grandmother nodded sadly, told them all to eat well and live long, to remember their ancestors. She kissed Jisu, clutched Sung and Jungho to her chest, and held tightly to her daughter-in-law’s hand. She said to Min, “Things won’t be easy since you’re the oldest, but it’s up to you to take care of your mother, brothers, and sister. Always remember yourfather. Be obedient to your mother.” Then she gave Sung’s mother her most loved possession: a piece of rough jade the size of a small peach pit that had been given to her by her husband, that he had intended all his life to have made into an impressive necklace. Sung’s mother put it deep into her clothes, where it could be kept warm by the beating of her heart.
“In this life,” the grandmother told them as they began to walk away, “there isn’t much more than family. Take care to stay together.”
Sung remembered afterward that fireflies were out that night, emitting a tiny greenish glow that disappeared as soon as you saw it. It still felt like summer.
When they were on the main road and could still see the grandmother, Sung’s mother stopped and cried out in an anguished voice, “I can’t leave you, Mother!” But the grandmother just steadfastly waved them away with her hands. Go, go.
In order to avoid Kaesong, swollen and chaotic with soldiers, Sung’s mother hired a guide to take them through the hills until they crossed the border. The guide, a burnt stick of a man with severely bowed legs, told them it would take four days and they would only travel at night. He was nervous and kept telling them to be quiet even though he was the only one talking, saying, “Pali, pali.” Hurry, hurry. The full moon was both a blessing and a worry: the narrow dirt track was easier to see but it was also true that they could be more easily detected.
Min carried Jungho on his back, Sung carried Jisu, and his mother walked with a big bundle on her head and another on her back. They switched often so that their mother could get a break, Min taking the bundles, Sung piggybacking Jisu, and their mother holding Jungho’s hand. Sung noticed a strange thing. Each time they started walking again, as the pain increased in his back, his legs and neck, he would think, I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this. But just when he was about to give up and stop, he felt a weight lifting off him, strengthreturning to his body, and he could continue. In his head, all conscious thought stopped when this happened, and he felt a oneness with the world that made it possible to keep one foot going in front of the other. He felt both invincible and like a ghost. He started to look forward to this feeling.
At last, just as the sky on the fourth day was turning pink, the guide took them up one last hill and pointed down to a paved road in the distance. “Follow this to the bridge. If you’re lucky, it will still be open. One week it belongs to the Reds, the next week to those Yankees.”
“How will we know the way to Seoul?” Sung’s mother asked. She had never gone farther than the next village. Seoul was just a name to her, a fearful one.
The old man laughed. “Just follow everybody else. You’ll see how easy it is.” He held out a hand for payment.
Sung’s mother blushed and lowered her eyes. She said she was very sorry but she didn’t have enough to pay him the agreed-upon price, and that she had lied because she had been so desperate. The old man swore at her. The money she pushed at him was about half of what she had promised him.
“Please forgive me,” Sung’s mother said, head down low, waiting for whatever punishment he chose to give her. “I’m deeply ashamed. But because of you my children will live.”
“What are your lives to me?” the old man spat, annoyed beyond measure. “I’m barely keeping my own alive.” He made as if to hit her, but didn’t. Instead, he stamped around on his bowed legs and cursed until he ran out of steam. Jisu woke up and began to cry. Then the old man grabbed the money out of Sung’s mother’s hand and stalked off into the night.
The truth was that at the beginning of the journey Sung’s mother had fully intended to pay the guide what she owed him. But the past week had changed her. With some surprise, she realized that she was strong, that there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to keep her family alive. She had been brought up to follow other people’s orders—parents, older siblings, husband,mother-in-law. She had never been alone. Now here she was making her way to Seoul, a place she could not imagine. She would do whatever it took to keep her family intact, alive—lie, cheat, pretend all manner of things she didn’t think or feel. She felt bad for the old man, but not enough to take food out of her children’s mouths.
They entered the river of people walking south to Seoul. Everyone looked beaten down, discouraged; no one was hurrying anywhere. Sung’s family walked until they felt close to collapse, and then they sat on the side of the
