If bonds were built only on blood,
then somehow we'd break that down
and be the first family of those that don't carry the same blood,
the kind of family that growing up without
makes one really long for.
I'm smart and handsome, of course,
but back then,
I was just a kid,
a boy struggling to survive,
that knew that food wasn't coming in,
had no way of making money,
and I thought maybe stealing
food would be enough to get me through
every last hunger pain,
to get me past those awful days,
and then, you shown up,
without even a penny to your name,
broke as broke could be,
after giving all of your gold beads
to kids that probably looked just like me back then:
dirty, too thin, old raggedy clothes
and desperation
And yet, you still traded your shoes for a potato
to make sure I could eat,
and somehow no one expects the day
that a dad will walk into their life
and treat them as their own child
and maybe that's not the right way to explain things,
the right way to mention how you sat down with me
and taught me to make straw sandals, how you congratulated me,
told me that I did good, that the student surpassed the teacher
and maybe I hadn't known what it was like to support someone,
to be someone that another needed,
and maybe in a way, I, as a kid, almost became your dad, instead.
And when you came back,
it had felt like ages since I saw you last
and you were the mirage in the desert,
one that I didn't expect to be there,
but dove right into welcoming,
and when we left,
it was a new beginning,
not one that promises ease,
but one that promises hope.
Ik-Soo, you brought me back
to a home, like I've never known,
a place of warmth and family,
a place where I'm needed,
a place where I have what I've needed,
and that's all I ever really wanted.
