Frog in a Well

Jee Sung Kim

I was standing in the lobby of Kimpo Airport.

 “Stand just there, by your dad,” my aunt said. I couldn’t believe that she was so obsessed with having the family picture taken.  I thought about screaming, but that would be unthinkable.  Each click of the shutter would only capture my sadness turning to inconsolable grief. I was moving stiffly to the left, never looking at the camera. My chin was buried in case of tears so that I barely glanced up for the camera.  I was making a lip-trembling, fake smile, hoping my sadness would impact the photographs. It was July 23, 2002, I was fifteen years old, and my family was emigrating.

Actually, my emigration had started the day when my dad announced at the dinner table that we had finally received our green card. “Well, the green card is at last issued to our family…  And you know this is the great opportunity for you guys to study in America,” dad said, entirely expecting my sister and me to be excited at this news. However, there was an explosion in my head, all the blood in my veins thickened, and if my heart was still beating, I didn’t know it. I felt like I was slowly turning to stone.

Although I knew the day would eventually come, the announcement was still stunning and disappointing. Quoting her favorite Korean proverb, my mom added, “Studying in another country will broaden your perspective and experiences. A frog living in a well thinks the well itself is the universe. I am sure you don’t want to be a frog in a well.”

Not listening, but somehow hearing what she was saying, I sipped cold water hoping that it would freeze my heart which seemed to be cracking as it began to beat again, but now with painful blows to my chest.  My head hung low and I stared at my right knee with the small scar from our annual New Year’s Day races. All the kids from our cramped, brick housing complex would join in the race.  Last year I had fallen on our asphalt park and skinned my knee. It seemed like every adult came to my aide. I was neither upset nor felt any pain as my shock was softened with their sincere attention and care. We have a word for this in Korean - jung. It is the word for community and communal bonds. My connection with my community was more like a family relationship and I felt it was stronger than the pull of gravity now.

Why would I want to leave this happy, comfortable well?

My mom was right; I had been so comfortable in my well that I didn’t think to find the potential in another well. Now I know better. Each new well will become easier now: and best is knowing that leaving one well does not mean abandoning another. I can take the teaching from each of my communities and grow with them.