For the Last Time by Alice Jeong (13, Korea)*

I rise from the kitchen stool, staring out 
into the woods where leaves swirl down
from the maple trees. Winter dangles 
from the sky, growing ice on the Hydrangea
flowers I’ve watered and grown. Above me,
the sun blurs between a misty cloud, casting
shadows around the house. Brown boxes
wrapped with duct tape crowd the floor,

---

ready to be ferried onto trucks. Outside, stiff
wind claws at the shoji paper 
and the door knob clicks. I want to watch the sun
climb down from the sky, and hear the waves from
Hamdeok crash onto rocks. I stare at the miniature
Dol-hareubangs that were once loved by my sister,
now with dust piling up on their hats. The
sculpture's bulging eyes remind me of the sun at the
beach. I picture the miniature figures held in the air
by the hands of my neighbor’s children, skipping
among the tulips that have turned frosty. Strings of
sunlight shine against their messy hair, their soft
breathing filling the air. I walk towards Geumneung
Beach. My feet sink into the sand. The trucks have
come and I look back towards the rippling sea for
the last time.