"Okay, so we need to go the grocery store to buy Taec's favorite food. Then we could check out the mall to choose a really neat gift for him. Momma, I hope the house isn't messy, I mean the lady cleaner cleaned everything on Monday, so is it still clean? Also, we should definitely decorate the house and fill it with welcome home signs," I blabber endlessly as I put the receiver back on.

Mother jerks me back and forth and yells, "Shut up! I know you're getting excited but he won't be here until the end of this month,"

I can feel the muscles around my eyes tighten and my mouth turns dry, "That's 26 days from now,"

There's no sound and I assume that mother nodded. My shoulders sag as mother holds my arms and my weight falls heavily on my mother's hand, though I know I'm not that heavy, she crumbles and we both sit on the floor. My legs sprawled on the ground; my hands in my lap. My arms still grasped in mother's firm grip, as if to support my deteriorating state of physique. My mind goes blank for a moment, perhaps from the over-exhilaration that invaded my body.

I start to nod, thinking that this is the best way; we can arrange things and even come up with ideas that are better.

…

"Hey, Yumi," his voice softens as I reply to him. "Long time no speak," his voice is chirpy on the other end.

I smile brightly, "Yup,"

We don't talk. My tears threatening me to fall, his end is complete silence and I wait, my grip on the phone tautens. Phlegm creates itself within the walls of my throat, barricading my breath. My lips tremble and my chin dodders. Shoulder blades shudder, I ask in the same moment he asks, "How are you?"

We both laugh idiotically and then we answer each other. "Are you really doing well?" he asks again and I know this time, he's talking about my blindness.

I feel this urge of poking my eyes or plucking them out altogether; they've been causing everyone worry. I hate it when people ask me how I'm doing just because I'm disabled; it doesn't exactly make me less human but when he asked, I felt my heart flutter, surely, my brother is someone special.

"I learnt 1600 Japanese Kanji and can read them. I'm taking lessons at home, reading and writing as well. Ah, but momma won't late me take Korean lessons," I whine. "She's so insistent on me learning Japanese," I eye her playfully as I tell Taecyeon.

He chortles, it's a bit hoarse and chalky but nonetheless lively, "Man, do I miss home,"

My eyebrows furrow, "Why? You don't like it there?"

"No," he responded quickly. "I love it, it's just not home,"

"Home is where the heart is," I smile as I remember the first time he told me that sentence. It was when he wanted to leave for Korea at sixteen years of age.

…

My lower lip's edges turn up, heaving the upper one to form a smile and I push my sleeves upward and start studying.

My finger sweeps the dotted symbols on the paper and my mind records each dot my finger touches, then linking them together, I start to memorize each one.

After learning ten Kanji symbols, I move to open an English literature book, this course's choice: Emma by Jane Austen. The book is extremely heavy and I have to lift up with both hands and with hoisted breath, I land it hard against my thighs as I sit, causing me to wince. Each paper of the book is an A4 sized page and within them embedded the dots that represent words.

I begin to read until I reach page number forty then I stop, sensing the growing tedium at the pit of my stomach –or perhaps, it's simply hunger.

Reluctantly, I shove the book off my lap and stand up, I hate it when I forget bringing my cane, I'm sure I look retarded as I flail my hands in the air while they're at my side, like a little child too bashful to say hi to the camera. Determinately, I sense the sofa's leather then move to the table next to it. Counting each step, I reach the kitchen counter, the one with the telephone stuck to its wall. I breathe slowly, knowing that I'm on a safe shore, I continue on walking then suddenly stop; I utterly forgot why I'm moving around.

I land my hand on what seems to me a wall, very cold and flat, then I start to laugh at myself, completely unable to recall why I left my book on the sofa and came wandering in the house. Bending my back and reaching my fingers to my toes, I fold my body to sit on the floor, my hands cupping my face and my legs crossed. My fingers run through my hair and I abruptly snatch it away from my head.

It's certainly has been such a long time. Momma always takes care of me, brushing my hair for me, putting toothpaste on my toothbrush, sometimes even puts me in my sleeping gowns. I know this sound like pampering and spoiling but every time I try doing my hair, or brushing my teeth, I mess up so bad, toothpaste would be creaming my whole face.

I remember this one time, when I was thirteen years old, showering by myself for the first time. Shampoo seared my eyes and I cleaned half of my body, mother came in and gave me a bath herself. Now, she only delicately massage my head and washes my hair with shampoo and water, the rest is on me.  

Hesitantly, I raise my hand in the level of my head, I can feel them trembling, my fingers are quivering so much it's as if I'm playing on an aerial piano. I huff a sigh of disappointment, "It's your hand, Yumi," I scoff. "What's so scary about that?". Sighing, I force it on my head, my palm pulling hair from the front of my head to the back, again causing me to flinch.

The hair feels like plunging your hand in billion silk threads, they twirl around your fingers and intertwine. They tickle the senses and I unwillingly begin to laugh, my giggle sounds off me so awkward and bizarre that I stop, in the false endeavor of hearing it as I focus, like it's vibrating from someone else.

Then, altogether, I stop. "Enough with being weird," I warn myself whisperingly. My hands fall into my lap and I breathe peacefully.  

"If you'd be this lively, then I'd have Taecyeon call us every day," mom's voice came from behind me, a little stern and emphasizing the obvious meaning behind her words.

My cheeks flush, they burn so much that I instinctively put my hands on either side of cheeks, "How?" I begin then I swallow the lump in my throat, "How long have you been standing here, momma?"

She laughs and I can hear nothing but the drilling sound of my heart and the echo of her laughter filling my ears.  

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