The 500th Story

I never expected to write my 500th piece, let alone hit this milestone with my 500th work. On June 11, 2008, I wrote my first post, "Maria Who Lived Upstairs." It was a story about a woman from Austria who lived on the fourth floor of the building where I lived in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I never asked her exact age at the time, but I remember she was around 92. Her husband, Tony, would climb up to the fourth floor every morning to take her to the senior center. Maria rarely went outside except for doctor's visits. I thought Tony was healthier, but he passed away before her, leaving Maria to live alone. When she was young, she had focused on working and saving money, so she never had children. I would visit her once a week with some milk that spoiled easily, and we would talk for about an hour.

"Tony, Soo-im is here," Maria would call out, acting as if she had forgotten that her husband was no longer in this world.

When I first started writing, I was worried: what if I finished writing about all my neighbors in the building and ran out of things to write about? But here I am, still writing for the JoongAng Ilbo 18 years later! Whenever I send my writing and drawings to the paper and say "Thank you," they reply with, "We received them well." I send my work on time, and the newspaper publishes it on time.

Because I am the type of person who sticks with something once I start, and because I have to send drawings along with my writing, I have been able to keep a brush in my hand almost every day. My writing has served as the motivation to keep working. The space the JoongAng Ilbo provided me allowed me to continue writing, and another source of my motivation is my husband. Even when I write complaints about him, he doesn't mind and encourages me to write whatever I want to relieve my stress. At first, I hesitated, wondering if I was bringing shame to our family, but then I thought, "What kind of fancy family are we?" and just wrote whatever I pleased. The boldness to not care what others think after reading my work was hiding inside me, waiting for its day in the sun, and it all came pouring out.

I prefer a thin and long life that lasts a long time. Perhaps my stories continue to flow like a leaky faucet because I don't write about difficult or academic topics, but rather write like a diary about the daily life that happens around me every time I open my eyes. Thank you so much to all the readers who have been reading my work all this time.