What a lovely morning…
I was standing at the kitchen sink on Sunday morning, washing dishes. The cool water felt good on my hands, and I liked the soft feel of the soap bubbles as I moved the sponge over the dishes.
A cool sheet mask covered my face. A pot of seaweed soup was on the stove, and rhythmic music was playing through my headphones.
I had already spent two hours at a cafe near home that morning. I drove there soon after waking up and worked on my writing while slowly sipping a hot Americano. After about an hour, I felt like having some bread, so I bought a loaf of chestnut bread and ate some.
Back home, I gave my daughter the iced Americano I’d brought for her and sat down at the sofa table to write a little more.
After a while, I began to feel a little tired.
I got up, took a cold sheet mask from the refrigerator, and put it on my face. I wanted to listen to some music, but then I remembered leaving my small over-ear headphones in the bedroom the night before.
When I opened the bedroom door, my husband stirred.
“What time is it?”
“Go back to sleep. It’s not even eleven yet.”
I picked up the headphones from near my desk and quietly closed the door.
Soon, with music playing in my ears, I found myself moving around the kitchen. I put some multigrain rice on to cook, soaked some dried seaweed in water, and gently rubbed and rinsed it with my hands. Then I put a large pot of seaweed soup on the stove and started washing the dishes.
My daughter was getting ready to go out. When the rice cooker finished cooking, she opened it and fluffed the rice with a paddle.
“The rice is ready, but the soup hasn’t even started boiling yet.”
She was taking some kimchi from a bowl I’d left on the table.
“You must be hungry. Want some of the sashimi left from yesterday with your rice?”
“Sounds good.”
I walked toward the balcony to get the sashimi from the kimchi refrigerator. On the way, I stopped to take a picture of the sky.
Oh, look at that sky…
My daughter started eating while I rinsed the last of the dishes.
The seaweed soup was now bubbling away.
“Want some soup too?”
She said yes, so I served her a small bowl. She seemed to enjoy it, drinking the last of the broth straight from the bowl.
I felt like writing again.
Still wearing my sheet mask, I sat down at the sofa table and began typing on my laptop, moving a little to the rhythm of the music.
“Oh, I’m sweating.”
My daughter sat beside me, watching me write with a smile.
“Everyone’s still asleep…”
My husband and son had gone to bed late the night before. The house was quiet, with no sign of either of them getting up.
We were thinking of going to the library to return some books my daughter had borrowed.
“I couldn’t get through them,” she said.
“I might find something I’d like to borrow.”
Right next to the library was a screen golf place where I’d practiced almost every day. But I’d played a par-three round with my husband the day before, and I didn’t feel like practicing again.
“Maybe I’ll browse the psychology section.”
“There aren’t any psychology books I really want to read,” she said.
“Why don’t we just go to that cafe?”
We’d been to that cafe for matcha shaved ice during the summer. It was only a seven-minute drive from the library.
“Oh, that sounds good. I’ll bring my laptop and work on tomorrow’s post.”
“I only have seven Japanese online lessons left. I can watch some there.”
“すごいね! That’s good.”
I got up from the sofa table.
“Let’s leave something ready for Dad when he wakes up. I’ll eat first too.”
I stood at the kitchen island and ate some rice in seaweed soup, with kimchi on the side.
“Is it good?” my daughter asked, coming over.
“Yeah. I’m sweating.”
After eating, I carried my dishes to the sink and noticed the empty frying pan on the stove. I’d been thinking of making a stir-fry with shiitake mushrooms and onions for lunch. But we’d already eaten, so there was no reason to make it now.
My daughter was helping me nearby. She was putting some kimchi from the bowl onto a small plate for her dad.
I’d made the napa cabbage kimchi two days earlier and cut some up to eat right away. Looking at what was left in the bowl, I felt like making tuna and kimchi stir-fry for the first time in a while.
I might as well make something spicy and leave it on the table.
I heated a little olive oil in the frying pan, added the kimchi, and snipped it into smaller pieces with kitchen scissors. Then I added a whole can of tuna, including the oil.
I used to drain the oil, but I’d seen my son eating this organic tuna straight from the can, oil and all. So I thought I’d try it.
After stir-frying everything together, I sprinkled in some toasted sesame seeds and tasted it.
Oh, it’s delicious.
I thought about adding a few drops of sesame oil.
No, it’s enough.
I liked the taste of the tuna just as it was, mixed with the kimchi.
I put some on the table for my husband.
On Our Way Out
“Oh, it’s not even twelve thirty, and we’ve already eaten and we’re heading out.”
My daughter and I laughed as we waited for the elevator.
“Nice weather.”
I looked at the trees around our apartment and the sky as we walked toward the parking lot.
Suddenly, my daughter stopped.
“Oh!”
“What? Did you step in dog poop?”
She burst out laughing.
“I thought that leaf was a praying mantis!”
We both laughed.
“Dog poop? Mom, you have quite an imagination.”
“That’s why I write.”
We continued toward the parking lot, but I couldn’t see our car.
“Oh, right. I parked near the entrance.”
We turned around and got into the car.
Before driving off, I sent my husband a message telling him to help himself to the rice and seaweed soup when he woke up.
“Now we can take our time while we’re out.”
The Library and the Cafe
On the way, I asked my daughter, “Just curious, are those Korean novels you’re returning?”
“Yes. Three Generations and The Rainy Season.”
The titles sounded familiar. I remembered Three Generations clearly, and The Rainy Season rang a bell too.
“Aren’t those novels in high school textbooks?”
“Yes. By Yeom Sang-seop,” she said, referring to Three Generations.
I laughed.
“Yeah, I can see why you couldn’t finish them.”
“I wrote on my blog that I’ve given up on my plan to borrow and read a hundred Korean novels from the library. I’m just going to a bookstore instead,” she said.
The library was on the way to the cafe, so we stopped briefly and dropped the books into the self-service return machine in front of the entrance.
Then we drove to the cafe.
The table we’d sat at before, next to the floor-seating area, was empty, so we sat there again.
“The weather keeps changing,” I said. “It was cool just a few days ago, but today it’s hot again.”
We slowly sipped our iced decaf Americanos, each doing our own thing.
My daughter put on her earphones and started watching her Japanese lessons. I opened my laptop and began writing.
When I got up to go to the restroom, I noticed she was still absorbed in her lessons.
“Shall we go? I’ve finished two lessons. It’s getting too noisy.”
“Sure. We’ve been here an hour and a half. I’ve finished my draft too.”
We packed up and left.
A Little Stop on the Way Home
We stopped at a self-service print shop. Our printer at home hadn’t been working properly, and my daughter needed to print some materials for her classes.
The printing cost only a few hundred won.
“That’s cheap.”
As we came out, a shop nearby caught our attention. It was a small store specializing in low-calorie and sugar-free snacks.
“Want to go in and have a look?”
Inside, shelves were filled with all kinds of snacks, many of which I’d never seen before.
One package caught my eye almost immediately.
Whole wheat crackers.
I’d wanted to find something like these for a while, though not enough to search for them online.
I picked up a package, and my daughter chose a few snacks of her own.
As we walked out, we laughed.
“This feels just like being on a trip!”
My daughter started eating her potato chips while I drove home.
Back at our apartment, I turned off the engine.
“These are 97 percent potatoes and 3 percent palm oil,” she said, looking at the package. “That’s it. No added sugar.”
“There were hardly any left on the shelf. They must be popular. Let me try one.”
I took a chip.
“Hmm, not really my taste.”
Then I opened my whole wheat crackers and took a bite.
“Mmm, these are good. Want to try one?”
She tried one too.
“Yours are better than mine.”
Once inside, I ate another couple of crackers and looked them up on my phone, using the name on the package.
Oh, they’re much cheaper online. I can just order them whenever I want.
As I headed toward my bedroom, I said to my daughter, “These aren’t the kind of crackers I’d eat a lot of at once. Just a few when I feel like having something crunchy.”
Then I went in and lay down, planning to rest for fifteen minutes.
