in my mind, recall the timbre of her laugh. I dream that I make
frequent visits, that we talk and laugh, my sisters and their father
join us. We are a family.
Even these dreams though, are bittersweet. I wake, and the fluency of
Korean has fled my tongue. Omma is across the ocean, not across the
town. My youngest sister has yet to learn of my existence.
I have found Omma, but we still have such a long way to go.