The war has finally ended. We are victorious. The King is in celebration mode. The General is busy looking into future strategies. Thus, the General tasked his next in command to follow-up on the necessities in order for him to concentrate on the big picture. As I walked the General back to his camp, he turned to tell me, “Hyung, make a small detour on your way back. Stop by your hometown. It has been a long while since you were home. Go take a look, do something for yourself. (He pulsed, inhaled) Tough men, soldiers, we do not word it, but it is there. (He patted my shoulder) As your senior for years, I could sense that much in you. Especially that look in your eyes a decade ago, when that occurred. Go.”

I obeyed that command - sent the injured home for recuperation, saw to the funerals and comforted the grieving, surveyed the new trainees and inspected the arms. That was hard work, but I don’t mind. I could handle those, competently.

The time has finally come, although I am not sure if how my mind will handle and process that decade-old memory. I’ll know, the moment I stepped foot on it. That used to be a place that I love, I miss, and yet..

It was evening, the sky was orange, with faint rays piercing through the orange glow of white fluffy cotton in the sky, casting its light on the golden meadow, with tints of pink blossoms. I dismounted from my horse, and let it graze in the fields. This horse has followed me for years. It is loyal. I gave it a pat. Go, find all the food you want. I broke into a small smile, for this long-time pal.

In the gentle light, I took a long gulp from my bottle, used some water to clean my face and hands, before walking towards the grand tree. It is there, still standing tall and proud, despite all battles in the frontlines. That special tree, its canopy reached a few stories high, massive branches arching metres out from its main trunk. I touched the bole, its bark patterned and rough, its huge circumference gave hints on its age. Its branches have grown denser in these years. Luscious leaves sprouted, decorating its foliage. Its roots grew erratically all around the base. They were chaotic, yet resembled some random order and most importantly, it anchored the tree solidly to Earth. My long-time friend is in good health, I am glad.

Feeling and trailing my way round the tree’s perimeter, I am pleased to reach the swing, the make-shift swing with ropes and plank is still hanging on its bough. My fingers ran down the ropes/vines, gave it a slight push, surprised that it still swings. The sudden movements stirred up some dust that floated into the air.

Setting my eyes on the horizon, a huge meadow of golden flowers sprayed and bloomed in the immediate surroundings. That huge field of golden yellow, your favourite, merged right into the fading sunset.  

You were maybe 4 or 5, when we first met. We were neighbours, and one of the poorest in our village. I don’t recall what happened to my guardians, or my brain lost some pieces in that near fatal injury a decade ago? But I do recall some parts of it, maybe those are the most beautiful and unforgettable in my 30 odd years of existence. Your small face, sparkling eyes, innocent and childlike smile imprinted on me. Your exceptional kindness shone brighter than anyone and anything else. You never failed to share whatever food you have with me, accompanied me to comb the mountains, we climbed trees like primates, searched for fruits/roots that we would carry here, near our tree, set a fire with the dried branches we gathered nearby and roasted the roots for dinner. I learnt to improvised the branch into a fork which we can use to fish at the nearby river effectively, and taught you too. That added valuable protein to our diet. Then, I threw out the idea of making a swing. We started to source vines from the nearby forest, enforced with ropes, and a plank from the old and disposed table from the richest and snobbish family in our village. They must be ashamed to throw out usable furniture, for the rest of the village may not even afford new fixtures.  

That day that we assembled the swing, the sun was bright and high in the sky. We climbed, ran around, busied ourselves for most of the day, finally managed to tie the swing up onto the biggest branch. That thrill, the feel inside was euphoric as this is almost the first thing that is ours. Then, we thought so. I held your hand and led you to the swing, and gave it a push. The swing moved. However, the push was harder than I thought, you sprang forward, unprepared, screamed and fell. I caught you, luckily that I did. I recalled, you panted, while I checked your face, looking for signs of distress or hurt. Mentally, I kicked myself.

“Let’s try again! Don’t push too hard this time!” was the first thing you said once you recovered from the initial shock. While I almost cursed myself for nearly hurting you, you rebounded in no time, and wanted to try again. You are really one of the most resilient, bravest people in my eyes.  

Due to poverty, I enlisted early in life. For the same reason, you worked as a maid in the wealthiest family in our village. We had kept in touch, in those rough days. Your words of encouragement, no matter how short the message was, never failed to tide me over the darkest hours.

The half crescent moon hanging overhead reminded me of your lovely eyes. Dear Bo, I brought freshly dug sweet potatoes, and fish from the nearby river. I’ll roast them for you….

The fire burned on, emitting some heat, searing the fish skin, baking the potatoes. Ah, this slight charred skin of the fish, lovely soft sweet potato meat which you adored and we wanted each other to have every time… I sat on the swing, swinging gently. “How are you?”, I asked solemnly.

The temperature fell as the night deepened. Leaves fell from our tree as the breeze intensified. The crickets sang their melancholic tracks. Where were the fireflies that crowned the tree? I recalled that they only graced the tree when you are here.  Birds in the lush canopy chirped about their day. And yes, I almost forgot. Bo, my Bo-gie, (my treasure), I found a bird nest on our tree. Two adults and their three newly hatched chicks. Those nestlings are adorable, do you know..  If only you could talk to me now…I'll do whatever, I’ll trade anything for that.

A decade ago, that prolonged battle and unexpected injury held me up. For that, I could only make it back a month later. Then, I knew you were not well from overworking. Due to that held up, I only met you at your last. You have been dancing in this meadow since, here, where you love most. I glanced around, listened carefully in this deserted meadow … looking for traces.. or hoping badly?

Now, alone, at this god-forsaken hour, as the dust gathered and settled, I felt my heart hefty, getting heavier, eyes twitched, throat dry, hard to contain the unfathomable loneliness and accumulated tears which I had kept in check for all these years. Damn it! What have I done wrong? Why is it so HARD? Why is it so unfair to you? I yelled. I couldn’t accept the reality, I simply couldn’t. My bottled feelings saw no outlet.  

Why? I questioned myself. Why have I never done anything much for you, never expressed myself to you, letting you breathe most of your life alone. The guilt on my shoulders is so real and tangible. I .. I felt that I have let you down, that I didn’t do enough, that I didn’t have the chance and capture the opportunity to tell you the words in my mind. Yes, that war crippled certain parts of my mind and nerves after losing so many comrades. However, that night, the fatal night, part of me vanished with you. They said that I have been fearless in battles after that. They are right, as my existence, is only breathing, less of living.

That dam, which I held on to it for ten years, finally gave way. I wept, cried like a boy. Letting you see it, is okay, is never a problem. You have seen the best and worst of me, in the years that we were together.

In the dim light, through my blurry vision, I seemed to see your shadow, especially when I am here, the place where we were the happiest. No painting is needed and neither could any painter accurately portray or pin-point your exact brightness and kindness to precision. Here, I can picture you clearly in my mind. Do you know?  That obvious void you left behind was packed with darkness, almost choking the one who is left breathing. This ache occupied my mind, forcefully buried, always creeped in in the quiet moments. I wanted so much to see you again, to talk, laugh, share food with you, like what we did numerous times on this meadow. No one would comprehend the depth of your absence on me. Are you aware that my world has stopped that day? I felt weird that Earth could still rotate? I want to tell you now, though it is late. Till now, here, your aura remains, beautiful, strong. It felt eternal. Your will, what you left for me (“Live, be happy.” Your smile weak but brilliant) reminded me to live. That’s what you hoped for, so I will live well, like the same wish I have for you. I thought I learnt to cope, slightly better, by distracting myself, diverting my energy elsewhere. Those are side tracking. I know that vividly, once I am here.

Now, I continued sitting on the swing, alone, under our impressive tree and immersed in the field of yellow flowers you love… watching the fire reduced to ember. The fire is dying. I added some branches and stirred the stack, causing some twigs to flicker, and little dazzling sparks to jump into the air, seeming to be blowing your voice to me. Those are warm, gentle and encouraging lines. I still recalled your voice, they kept revolving in my mind, which I still kept close, as they continued to brighten my days.

I realised now. I acknowledged that I longed so much for you. I missed you. I regretted that I never verbalise it. Forgive me, as I could never let you go… For you, you are too precious. I hope, one day, our paths will converge again. I’ll greet you, with open arms and brilliant smile, like what you always do.

If only..  If, if there is a next chance, I’ll reset it. I’ll do it better. If only…

[Kim Bum Soo, I Miss You - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALc_eAtsCNs ]

My Division was entrapped at the tip of a peninsular the following year. Reinforcements were far. Our supplies gone. Our alternate sources drained. Every venue tried and used. We didn’t give in, we fought with what we have and could, till the last man standing. My beloved country. I salut!

I could no longer feel longing, thirst, fatigue or pain.