I still remember the old days.

Not many people can remember them anymore,
But I remember them as well as I remember my own name.

Everything was brighter then –
The sky,
The earth,
My face.

Those were the days when everything was green
And everything was full of life.

Those were the days when the sun hung in the sky longer than it should have,
Wanting nothing more than to see the smiling faces of the villagers;
To smell the sweet scent of roses blossoming blissfully under the golden rays of light;
To taste the ripened fruit that hung so welcomingly on the limbs of the trees whose
Branches beckoned all to touch the bark that was used in medicine;
The bark that held so many secrets
And told so many stories.

In those days, I was known by a different name.
In those days, I was called Minhyuk.

I was known throughout the village for my ability to capture the rain.

The village was usually sunny,
But when the earth called up to the sky and told it that the plants were parched,
The sky listened and responded accordingly.

And I was always there
To hear the friendly exchange between the two great bodies.

I listened to the wise words of the thunder
And marveled at the beautiful sight of the mighty lightning
Producing an energy so thrilling
That the young flowers would force themselves to bloom
Just so they could be part of the universal force of nature.

And as the raindrops began to fall to the earth,
I was always there to catch them.

I would hold out my hands –
Palms open,
Heart open –
Ready to accept the rain as a brother.

And one by one,
The droplets would gather in the palms of my hands,
Thanking me for sparing them the sting of hitting the earth.

And one by one,
I would place the raindrops onto the flowers,
Finally allowing the droplets to be at rest
And finally providing the flowers with precious nourishment.

The flowers would be so grateful
That they would spring into bloom all around me,
Encompassing me in a sea of red, yellow, and white,
Where I would float endlessly
Like a sailboat lost in the wind,
With no course to lead but the one ahead of me.

Those were the days when the flowers were always in bloom
And the essence of life was as fragrant as the flowers themselves.

Those were the days when I was surrounded by pure love and happiness.

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In my family there were four:
My protective father,
My gentle mother,
My sister with a soul of fire,
And me,
The boy who caught the rain.

My father was known throughout the village for his way with animals –
He always knew exactly what to say to calm the cattle;
To silence the rowdy roosters;
To make the birds sing louder and livelier than ever before.

It was because of him that the villagers were able to eat such fine meat
And were able to hear the birds sing such soulful songs in the early hours of the morning.

He never allowed an animal to be in agony
And he never let an animal give up on living.

And he never let me go to the city with my friends.

He never let me go out when it got dark.

He never let me swim in the river,
And he never let me kiss a girl.

And I hated him so much
For not letting me do those things.

I hated him at that time,
But now…

All I want is for him to say no to me,
To make me angry,
To treat me as a child.

That’s all I want –
That’s all I long for.

My mother’s reputation throughout the village was unique,
One that was possessed by no other villager for at least a hundred years.

My mother was known as the woman who whispered to roses.

She would listen to their troubles
And console them,
And after she had finished giving the roses consolation,
They would close their thorns before her.

It was because of my mother’s kindly disposition
That the villagers were able to pick roses without shedding a single drop of blood.

It was because of my mother’s kindly disposition
That the roses were twice as red and twice as fragrant as the roses in the shops of the city –
And the people of the city wanted nothing more than to have roses from our village on their dining room tables or in the hands of their loved ones.

It was because of my mother’s kindly disposition
That I found it so easy to take advantage of her.

I abused her kindness
And made her cry many times.

I was disrespectful to her
And I didn’t care.

But now…
All I want to do is apologize for making her cry.

All I want to do is tell her how much I respect her,
How much I have always respected her,
And thank her for raising me to the best of her ability.

That’s all I want –
That’s all I wish for.

But it was neither my mother nor my father who was the most loved by all in the village.

It was her –
It was my sister.

My sister had a very special gift
That no one in the village had ever possessed:

My sister was the overseer of change –
Of metamorphosis.

My sister befriended every butterfly in the village,
And when her butterfly companions set flight,
Headed off to meet more of their kind in other unfamiliar places,
They spoke of a kind-hearted girl with a spirit of fire
Who knew the truths of change:
The greatest mystery of life.

And butterflies from near and far would flock to her,
Whispering words both nonsensical and profound,
Telling her more and more about the nature of change.

My sister was known as Butterfly then.
She had a real name,
But given her talent,
We all thought it best that she not use it.

She had a strong spirit that could captivate anyone.

Her eyes were as golden as rays of the sunlight,
And she often told me that the sun shouted words of envy to her from its home in the sky.

She was the only person who understood me.

With one look into my eyes,
She could detect every ounce of sadness,
Every inch of irritability,
Every drop of gaiety
That coursed through my veins
And hid inside my heart.

She was always the one to encourage me,
To tell me that the next day would be better,
To remind me of how appreciated and loved I was…

And now…
All I want…
Is to have her by my side.

Without her smile,
Life is so absent of meaning.

Without her eyes,
Life is so blind to goodness.

Without her touch,
Life is so unrelinquishing –
So unwilling to change.

My sister understood the nature of change,
And now,
So do I.

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I have changed –
I have changed a lot.

I am not any different from a butterfly.

Our entire life’s purpose is change,
And we both wait impatiently for the change to come.

But my metamorphosis was brought about by pain and emptiness,
Not by the touch of a girl with a spirit of fire and eyes as gold as sunshine.

I still remember those days,
And the remembrance is both a blessing and a curse.

But what I remember the most…

Was the day that…

Everything came to an end –

The day the rebellion began;

The day my father was shot and killed;

The day my mother’s gracious heart was taken right from her chest;

The day my sister laughed her last laugh
Before her life was heartlessly taken;

The day the sun stopped shining;

The day the sky cried tears of woe;

The day I first failed to catch the raindrops;

The day the flowers began to wither and die;

The day the leaves of the trees blew away in the wind;

The day the fruits and vegetables lost their luster and turned to ash;

The day the river water abandoned the people she once loved;

The day the rebels came and burned my home to the ground;

The day I changed,
Just like a butterfly.

I really am no different from a butterfly –
Not on the inside.

The real difference between me and a butterfly
Is a butterfly could have flown away from the hands of death ripping at the doors;
From the violent outcries of the rebels;
From the bodies of the people that he has come to know after so many years lying on the ground – drained of all life.

But unlike a butterfly,
I could not fly away.

And no matter how much I wished to be able to fly away,
I could not.

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I still remember those days
Exactly as they were –

From the view of a boy impatiently waiting to become a man,
Agonizingly aware of the burden of his innocence –

From the view of a boy who had everything that anyone could ever want
But did not know how to appreciate any of it.

I am the boy
Who appreciated nothing.

I am the boy
Who lost everything.

I am the boy
Who has come to understand the nature of change,
Just as my sister had so many years before.

I am the butterfly
Without any wings.