Chasing Memories

2023 7th & 8th Grade Prose Honorable Mention

     I remember going to visit my grandparents in California when I was younger. Memories
tinged with the yellow of happiness but the dimness of time. I ran down the stairs in my blue
butterfly nightgown on Christmas morning, my face lighting up when I saw the brightly colored
presents sitting under the decorated tree. The happy look gleaming on my grandmother’s face
when I pranced around in the beautiful dress that she had given me. The pride that shone on my
grandfather’s face when I rode my bike all the way down the street later that day. Sitting down to
that extravagant Korean feast when evening came - the table covered in platters of galbi and
mandu and bulgogi, the delicious aromas filling the air and mixing together. Running through the
house after dinner, giggling with delight while playing hide and seek with my grandparents and
sister.

     I wish things could have stayed like that. We flew back to our home in New York where
none of that magic existed. Where food was just food and riding a bike wasn’t anything special.
Where life was dull and routine - the same thing every day, over and over.

     If we’d never gone back to New York City, we could have done a lot of things differently.
Everything I ate would keep being magic and riding a bike would still be special. I could spend
every day with my grandpa and make new memories with him. Instead, we did go back to New
York, where my life was dull and routine until the day that my parents told us on the first day
of the Spring Break of eighth grade that we were going to California. To see my grandfather.
Who was very sick.

***

     “Ev? You awake?” My older sister Belle breathes into my ear. I am curled up into a ball
in my small airplane seat. I don’t respond. I feel numb, with a hollow pit in my stomach where
my sadness burrowed down into. All I do - all I can do, is grab Belle’s hand and squeeze as tight
as I can. She squeezes back, filling my body with a slight warmth. I suddenly grow exhausted
and I actually fall asleep.

     The rest of the flight passes in a blur of numbness, anger, sadness, and sleep. When we
finally land, something inside of me jolts awake and I realize that in a few minutes I’ll see my
grandfather. I don’t say a word as we walk off the plane, as we get our bags from the baggage
carousel, as we take the shuttle to the car dealership, as we pick up the car, and as we drive to the
hotel. When we get to the hotel, we drop off our bags and then drive to my grandparent’s house.
My memories from years ago rush back to me as we drive along these familiar streets and turn
the corner to see the house where so many of my childhood memories took place.

     “We’re here.” Daddy says somberly, his gaze sad as he looks back at us through the
rearview mirror.

     “Yeah.” Belle and I say in unison, in the same sad, unenthusiastic voice. Not because
we’re not excited to see our grandparents, but because we’re dreading to see the change in my
grandfather. Mom rings the doorbell and soon my grandmother comes to open the door. A smile
lights up her tired, lined face as she sees us and I step inside the door to give her a big hug.

     “Hello everyone! It has been too long,” Grandma says, “Come inside, come inside! You all look
so tired from your flight!” My mom agrees and gives her a hug. I walk inside and take in
the familiar surroundings. Nothing has really changed since I was here almost four years ago.
The shiny hardwood floors in the entryway are the same, as is the green carpet running up the
staircase, along with the chairs in the living room. Everything is the same except for my grandpa.

     He looks so skinny and weak as he sits in the cushy armchair in the corner of the living room,
his breathing heavy as he sucks in air from an oxygen machine. My breath catches and I avert my
eyes, instead staring at the ground. While my parents sit down in the living room and catch up with
my grandparents, I sit there silently with my lip quivering uncontrollably. I see Belle trying to lock
eyes with me from across the room, but I refuse and turn my head away. I feel the tears forming a
thin film over my eyes, making my eyes blurry and threatening to spill over. This Grandpa will never
be able to chase after me down the street as I race down on my bike. This Grandpa won’t be able to
tear through the entire house playing games of hide and seek tag.

     I can’t sit here like this. I have to get out, I think. The next thing I know, I’m jumping off
of the couch and running out of the house, slamming the heavy front door behind me. I barely
hear my parents shouting after me, I barely see the uneven cement sidewalk that I trip on and
collapse on in a mess of painful sobs and tears. I turn my head and see a blurry figure running
towards me.

     “Evelyn, sweetie,” I hear my mother’s voice as she sits down next to me and leans her
head on my shaking shoulder. “I’m here if you need me.” Sitting there with her makes me break.
I tell her everything that I had been trying to keep in even though it had been clawing at my
insides like a wild tiger. I had wanted so much to be brave, but I couldn’t keep up that lie. I’m
not brave, I’m scared - so scared. Telling her feels like a weight lifted off of me. Telling her takes
the most painful parts of the sadness away. Telling her makes my tears slow and my sobs quiet.
My mom helps me up and we start walking back to the house, me leaning heavily on her. I dry my
tears on her soft sweater while we stand on the doorstep and breathe deeply as she opens the door.
Then I gather my thoughts, shove the sad ones into the farthest corner of my mind and go back to
the living room.