Landing in Seoul, I've decided to collect stories from strangers. In my new notebook, bought from my favorite shop, I wrote a question in Korean on its first page: "What comes to your mind when you think of happiness?" Many emotional stories have been written, but one lingered.
In a dusty vintage shop in Seongsu, sunlight illuminating forgotten treasures, I found an old woman seated amidst delicate relics. Her wrinkled face held a quiet peace. Hesitantly, with broken Korean and gestures, I showed her my question. A soft smile touched her lips. Her eyes crinkled as she read. She looked around the shop, at a chipped doll, a faded photo, antique teacups. Then, softly, in Korean I barely grasped, she spoke words like "sunshine," "daughter's laughter," "warm rice." Her tone, her voice, conveyed a profound sense of peace. She picked up a small, intricately carved wooden bird from a nearby shelf, its surface smooth with age. She held it in her palm, her gaze distant, as if recalling a precious memory. Then, she looked at me, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth that transcended language. She pointed to the bird, then to her heart, and then made a small, upward motion with her hand, like releasing something into the air.
In that moment, I might not have understood her exact words, but I understood the message. Happiness, for her in that vintage haven, wasn't grand. It was simple moments: sun, joy, comfort, and the gentle release of memories.
A comfortable silence settled between us, filled only by the soft ticking of an antique clock. In that shared moment, amidst the forgotten treasures of the past, I felt a profound connection, a quiet understanding that transcended the boundaries of language, a glimpse into the enduring essence of happiness. Life is nothing but moments. Today is good because we don't know tomorrow. And today is good because we can continue to live today. It's today. Today is better than yesterday. Today us better than tomorrow.
1 year ago