Summer, Finally

Dear Aunt Yeo-won,

I hope this postcard finds you between customers, maybe with a well-earned sip of barley tea beside your stall. They still say your kimchi is the best in all of Pyongyang, and I believe it—no one else knows how to balance spice and soul like you do.

It’s been a hard season here. After Hana was born, I felt like my body forgot how to be strong. The doctors didn’t say much, just told me to rest, to wait. So I waited—and worried. Some days, I wasn’t sure if I would ever feel like myself again.

But today, the sun is warm, the fields are bright, and for the first time in months, we are both well. Hana laughs when the wind tickles her face, and I carry her out to the flowers just to see her smile. She is strong, curious, and finally healthy. Two whole weeks without a cough or a fever. It feels like a small miracle.

I miss you. I wish I could come visit, show her off at your market stall, let her smell the chilies and garlic. But the train feels far too loud for someone so small. So I write instead, and send you this image of us wrapped in sun and petals.

Give my love to the city,
and keep a jar of kimchi waiting for me.
With all my heart,
Min-seo