Summer’s Breath, and the Quiet Between Us

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by 송/송 2025. 8. 18. 22:52

Summer, with its scorching breath, is a season that presses itself into our lives with fierce intensity.

When sunlight pours down as if to burn the skin, and the roads shimmer like molten glass,
it feels as though both body and soul might melt into the heat.
That day was no exception.

Worries and quiet fears linger in the corners of my heart, refusing to be erased.
In the stifling living room, my son plays alone, repeating the same motions with the same toys.
And from somewhere deep within, a whisper escapes me—low, but resolute.

“Let’s go.”

Unlike the crisp air of Gangwon Province, this city clings with humidity.
Thankfully, it offers escapes—green edges where the world breathes differently.
We chose Yunggeolleung, a forested sanctuary of pine and other conifers I couldn’t name.
I hoped the green silence there might hush the noise in my mind, even if only for a while.

But summer’s landscape is rarely gentle.
Outside the car window, the world danced with life,
yet the sun’s fury seeped through the glass, filling the cabin with heat.

“He’s asleep.”

My wife, who had been soothing our son’s fussing, spoke softly.
At a red light, I glanced into the rearview mirror.
There he was—our son, asleep, his face serene like a sleeping angel.
In that moment, the weight pressing on my chest lightened.
His gentle breath filled the car like a lullaby,
and suddenly, this moment belonged to just the two of us.
A rare and precious gift.

Usually, our son’s boundless energy demands our full attention.
Moments for just the two of us are rare.
But now, with him asleep, we could set down the burden of parenting and step into another world.

“Let’s find a café nearby.”

I believe my wife and I shared the same thought—relief, and gratitude.

Marriage, bound by the life of a child, is a journey through waves.
Financial worries, aging parents,

and the quiet ache of hearing that your child’s heart may be hurting.

Each of our lives carries its own events, but when they intertwine, they become more complex, more layered.

Sometimes, these waves are small and pass easily.
Other times, they rise too high, too heavy to bear.

I’ve asked myself, “Why do these things happen to me?”
But I once saw a Y-tube that asked,
“Why do you believe these things shouldn’t happen to you?”
And in that question, I found my answer.

Resentment rarely visits me now.

Instead, I’ve come to see how deeply comforting my wife’s presence is.
In rare silences, we feel our bond grow stronger.
This is how a family story is written—quietly, moment by moment.

We stumbled upon a café that looked ordinary from the outside.
But as we stepped through the door, another world unfolded.

Cool air wrapped around us, erasing the heat in an instant.
Through the wide windows, the sky stretched in brilliant blue, decorated with soft white clouds.
Music flowed gently, mingling with the hum of conversation—just enough to soothe the heart.

This was not merely a place to quench thirst.
It was a refuge, a space for weary bodies and minds to rest, to reflect.

We ordered a cold Americano and a flat peach ade, vibrant and refreshing.
On the counter, two breads caught my eye:
A majestic Mammoth Bread, and a curious Scorched Rice Salt Bread.

The Mammoth Bread was a symphony—nutty streusel, sweet red bean and mung paste, soft cream, and chestnut jam.
Each bite was a burst of flavor, a celebration.
It was enough to satisfy not just hunger, but something deeper.

The Scorched Rice Salt Bread took me elsewhere.
Its balance of savory and nutty, its crisp exterior and moist interior—
It was a quiet revelation.
Each chew brought the earthy warmth of scorched rice, a taste of resilience.

These small joys, experienced through all five senses, freed me—if only briefly—from the clutter of the outside world.
With cold drinks and warm bread, we immersed ourselves in the purity of the present.

By the window, I watched our sleeping son.
Love swelled in me, along with a quiet wave of reflection.

I wished for nothing more than a normal life for him.
May he grow without wounds, and feel the beauty of this world with his whole being.
May he find wonder in a single blade of grass,
And hear nature’s whispers in the wind.

Though asleep, I hoped he absorbed every sensation of this café in his dreams.
The music, the cool air, the scent of bread and coffee—
May they wrap around him, gently awakening his senses.

I do not wish for him to chase blind ambition.
Rather, I hope he lives a life of feeling, of connection, of joy.
A life in harmony with nature, with a healthy body and a peaceful heart.
That is the life I wish to give him.

As we left and walked through the forest, I remembered his small hand gripping my leg.
The fluttering insects, the piercing sunlight through leaves, the cool water fountain,