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I make a face.
“Strawberry and pineapple? That’s disgusting.”
She laughs.
“Food is not disgusting, son.”
That ice cream is.
“Let’s go home before the snow gets worse.”
With our ice cream in hand, we step back into the freezing night.
As we walk through the snow, I squeeze Mom’s hand tighter.
The world looks different when it snows.
It’s as if somebody has thrown a white blanket over all the ugly parts of the city. Streetlights glow cold and white against the falling flakes, and the Christmas decorations make everything look a little more magical.
“Mom?”
“Hm?”
“Tell me a story.”
She smiles down at me and squeezes my hand.
“You know a thousand stories.”
“Tell me one anyway.”
Ma laughs softly.
“All right.”
I grin.
She always gives in.
Always.
“When I was little, my grandmother used to tell me an old Korean tale.”
I immediately look up.
“The one about the tiger?”
“No.”
“The goblin?”
“Also no.”
“The dragon?”
She laughs softly.
“The winter one.”
