Heavenly Creatures

Mother seemed happier after our trip to Rome. We continued to visit the Buddhist temple every morning once we had gotten back to our apartment in Seoul. Mother and sister had gotten close, sleeping in the same room (Sun had increased the size of the bed from a twin to a queen) and spending most of the day side by side. I might have felt left out if it weren’t for Sun.

“Is going to this temple every day doing something, Sun?” I asked one day while we waited for mother to finish her prayers.

“Of course,” Sun said. “Sometimes actions are necessary to cleanse the soul. It’s called karma yoga. The inner and outer are not separate, but linked.”

“Are we cleansing mother’s soul, or our own as well?” I asked.

“One creature that shines more brightly lights the candle of another,” Sun said.

“You’re a regular Yoda,” I joked.

“Wise I am,” Sun said, winking.

“Can you tell me something?” I asked.

Sun turned to face me, his smile faltering.

“Why did you do what you did? You know, so that they had to trap you in the Hand of God.”

Sun was silent for a moment; he seemed deep in thought.

“It’s hard being a monkey,” he said. “There was a girl I liked, and she didn’t like me back. It hurt me, and I grew an inferiority complex. Because I was not human before I became a heavenly being, I was never able to experience a normal human life, like the others. I felt that heaven didn’t consider me equal to the humans, so I protested. Very publicly.”

Sun chuckled. “I guess I went about it the wrong way, though.”

I smiled in commiseration. “I understand,” I said.

“Do you?” Sun searched my eyes, and what he found there seemed to satisfy him. “You do, don’t you?”

He held my hand, smiling at me. I smiled back, and as I looked into Sun’s eyes I realized that I was happy. It was like the reflection of light dancing in Sun shone into me, filling me with hope for the first time in ages. Perhaps for the first time in not only this life, but also ones prior, a deep darkness seemed to lift off me.

* * *

Mother and I rarely talked, except in passing. One night, however, I found myself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. With a sigh, I noted that the digital clock on my nightstand read 1 a.m. Instead of staying in bed, I got up and looked out my window. Our place was right beside a small park, which looked peaceful and well-lit in the lamplight.

I put on a jacket and quietly walked outside. As I passed through the gate of the park, I spotted mother and almost turned back. Mother spotted me at the same time and waved. I sighed before waving back and joining her.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

“I often take a walk out here at night,” mother said. She had become a grown woman already, and her voice sounded robust in the summer night air. “This is the first time I’m seeing you, though.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said.

Mother nodded. “I think…” She stopped speaking and looked at the trees around the park instead. I remained silent as well. To be honest, I didn’t know what to say to her.

Mother tried again. “I think it’s almost time to go, but I can’t leave until we talk,” she said.

I nodded but remained silent. Mother sighed in disappointment. We walked around the park twice before mother spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?” I asked lightly, not daring to hope that she was earnest in her apology.

“You know what for,” mother said.

“No,” I said. “I really don’t.”

“I left you two in the forest because I was afraid,” mother said.

I was filled with a dull anger at what I perceived to be mother’s excuse for what she had done, but I spoke carefully.

“You were afraid?” I asked.

“I didn’t know what love was,” mother said. “And I was jealous of what you two had with your father because I wasn’t your real mother.”

I laughed bitterly. “You were jealous? Tell me, mother. How old were we?”

Mother paused. “It’s so long ago, I don’t remember, but you two must have been four or five years old,” she said.

“Four or five…” I stared up at the few stars in the cloudy Seoul skyline. They twinkled remotely, peacefully. Another question came to mind. “Did you regret it?”

Mother had tears in her eyes. “How could I even say I regretted it, when you two suffered so?”

Mother sat on a bench and buried her face in her hands. I stood by silently as she wept. I envied her her innocence in being able to weep so openly. As for me, the pain was so great that I could not squeeze out a tear.

* * *

The next day, I didn’t speak to mother, but my prayer at the temple felt frazzled. I had had a strange dream. I felt unsettled the whole day, until I was tossing and turning again that night. Sighing, I got up and decided to go to the park. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t because I wanted to talk to mother, but I knew I was kidding myself.

A few minutes later, mother came up beside me.

“I heard you leave the apartment,” she said.

“I had a dream last night,” I said.

“What dream?” mother asked.

“I dreamt that I was a knight. But I used my sword to kill innocent villagers,” I said. “And I enjoyed it. They called me a monster.”

Mother sighed. “That’s the way of the world,” she said. “One hurtful deed ripples out into the world causing countless others to suffer.”

“You can’t think that what I went through was your fault,” I said. As for me, I no longer blamed my mother for what had happened to me. Not after what I had witnessed in my dream.

“Finding fault is a fruitless endeavor,” mother said. She indicated the trees around us. “The tree does not blame the seed for its deformities. The seed does not blame the soil, the water, the sun. When we search for the cause, we’re left with more questions than answers.”

“When did you get so wise?” I asked.

“I live with the Monkey King and Avalokitesvara,” mother said. “It’s only natural that I pick up one or two tricks.”

Against all odds, I laughed weakly, and mother laughed along. My heart softened, almost inevitably, towards my mother.

“I forgive you,” I whispered.

In my heart, I wondered if I, too, might be forgiven.

* * *

That night, I dreamt that I was standing on the shore of the ocean, alone. Sun, Avalokitesvara, and mother were in a white boat, and the boat was moving swiftly out to sea. They looked back to smile and wave at me. I watched them go, forlorn.

When I woke up the next day, Sun sat beside me, holding my hand. I smiled at him.

“I was afraid you’d gone,” I muttered, still half awake.

Sun stroked my fingers in silence before speaking. “I have to go,” he whispered.

I opened my eyes, suddenly awake. “When?” I asked.

Sun looked at me sorrowfully. “Today.”