Life will always move on. Time is one thing that never stops, something that you'll never get back, something that comes every step of the way. I have lived 15 years till this present day, and I will never stop growing- I won't stop growing until death, I won't stop growing until I grow into wrinkles, until I start to hear less, start to forget. I will never stop moving forward in life. People tend to forget, living everyday is a privilege, even if a day comes with a certain hardship. To some, these hardships are something small, to others it's overwhelming, but I'd like to talk about one of my biggest obstacles in my life.

About three years ago, my mom went into hospitalization due to a ruptured aneurysm. I was the last to know, being her only child, I was the last to know. At first I felt upset, but as time passed, I grew into the knowledge that others around me just tried to protect me. My mom had a huge chance of death and I prayed she would be okay. Never once did I pray before, but I was young, desperate, clinging onto time that I could only wait to see in the future. I was sad, part of my heart broke away. I could only rely on time that passed through days, days where I would sit on my floor blank. Weeks, weeks where I would just wait, and wait, she was in a coma for months. Months, months where I never had a moment where I didn't consider what I would do if my mom, the one who raised me, the one who taught me everything, was gone. I didn't know what to do, I was so young, and curious, I was only twelve. Twelve years dependent on my mother, but considering her being gone, I grew independent. It was the hardest time of my life. Life that surrounds beauty, youth, growing, adventure turned into torment, hardships, obstacles, and turmoil. I emphasize time, time that felt like it stopped, but it never did. Around me was silence, silence that shut down any hint of moving forward. It was an internal silence, around me life was noisy, but inside all I heard was nothing. I thought that time had frozen, nothing would change, things would always get worse if I focused on the time that kept moving- I was so wrong.

My mom ended up surviving her severe stroke. As soon as I found out, a weight lifted off my shoulders, my heart pieced together like a perfect puzzle. Time guided me-I moved by waiting, proceeding into every second that came to me in the future. The future that soon became the present, present becoming the past. I healed. I thought time had stopped, time never stopped, which ultimately meant I kept moving. I went, and I kept growing. Mentally and physically, I still grew. I never stopped. To trust the process of time that comes is difficult, but it comes with worth. I, that day, realized that I was gradually healing. Even though I would never stop thinking about my mom, it was lifted with the help of my family, the comfort of my friends. The purity around me, the support, I never had realized until time came around, that I was slowly healing no matter what the outcome could have been. I was relieved, saying the very least.  And as I healed, I came to realize my mom went on her own journey, a parallel to my own experience of recuperation.

My mom, as I was going through different stages of growing, was going through a path of healing. Her own trail to find a light, and the only way I know is because I went to visit her. Spring is a fragile movement from winter to summer, and it's a gentle season. The sun is blaring, Alaska snow is melting from the high mountains, as bunnies regain their muddy coat. Flowers grow, and it smells of rain, but it's comforting. There comes a breeze that won't blow you away, it feels like a gentle breath overcoming your body. This cinematic scene of Spring was gained after I saw my mother for the first time after her incident. It was Spring 2022, and I was in the car with my father. I was nervous, I didn't really know what I was going to say to mom. I had so much to say but words wouldn't come out, and it was difficult. I had a hard time communicating with my own mother. It had been so long, and I saw so many changes in her. She was weakened, and hurt. Her eyes were just no longer soft, but desperate. It was devastating to see her in this state, but I was changed. At that moment, I truly believed in time and patience. This patience stayed until the second time I had seen her, which was last year. 2024, May. I clutched my hand nervously as I waited to see my mother in Korea at the airport. I looked at her, and saw the comparison between her then and her when I was seeing her in front of me. She looked alive, with emotion I saw her eyes within a pure soul. I saw her twinkling, glowing like glitter almost: She tried so hard, and I could tell based on one glance. She looked like the color that came with summer.

The unseen strength of time is unknown until you truly see it come alive within your eyes. I am so thankful till this day that I can live without something missing, someone being empty from my heart. I love my mom, and I call her frequently: she is doing better everyday, and so am I. The real moral of this experience taught me to trust the continuance of time, to wait for the future that comes. It's okay to be patient-I learned that it's okay to be patient. I await my next visit, but for now, I will stick to talking to her through a screen as it still gives me the assurance that I'll need for a lifetime. Trust in the path of time and healing, everything will be okay.