It seemed that whichever god it was who looked upon us would never let us fall completely. There would always be a reason to stay holding on, to continue waking up, to still inhale and exhale.

My only reason then was Mino. Another reason came, in an e-mail sent  by my sister.

It was dated April 18, and looking at the calendar now, I figured I was more than a week late.

Dearest sis,

How are you doing? How’s school? Does dad bother you still? How’s living alone? Do you eat properly?

Sigh. I know we lost touch, and I’m sorry. We lost your number, and we couldn’t find your Facebook account anywhere until recently! What happened?

Life’s been difficult. I’m trying to work full time while mom stays at home to take care of Byungjun. Your bro Ted is good to us.

Mom fell sick, had a fever for two days and I had to take a leave so that I could look after BJ.

It’s hard being a grown up. There’s too much to mind, so many bills to pay and mouths to feed. It’s difficult, and we’re just barely getting through.

If things get better, mom can go home.

I love you, sis. Write back.

It felt like waking up from a bad dream. The e-mail relieved me in more ways than one, but I couldn’t help but question why there was still a hollow feeling in my gut. I thought then that everything would be okay when I’d get back in touch with my family, and after I wrote back to my sister to tell her I was doing fine and that she shouldn’t worry abou