WHEN I WAS 15 :: seungjin ✔︎

64

When I was sixty-four, I retired from my dance-teaching career, and my daughter had a beautiful baby boy.

The dance retirement had been long-since due. At the height of my youth (the sparkling age of 61) I'd knocked my hip into a door handle, passed out, and woken up with a cane to keep me company for the rest of my life.

Three years later, I decided that managing a studio wasn't nearly as fun as managing and teaching in a studio, so I contacted a close dancer friend of Han Jisung's daughter, spoke with her, and, after many conferences and tiring paperwork, transferred the studio and my trust into her care.

Six months in and it hadn't yet burned down, so I was relieved in my retirement. I did start sleeping through sunrises, but it meant more time spent resting at Seungmin's side, so there were no complaints from anyone.

Well, that wasn't true. Minseo and her husband, a doctor just like she was, wouldn't shut up about how hard it was to raise their son. At just two months old, he was a screamer, and a loud one at that. Minseo's husband, Hyunsoo, was friendly and had kind eyes, and Seungmin and I approved even before marriage was even an idea between the couple.

The baby boy, named Hyunjae, was perhaps the single most adorable thing on the planet. Even more than Jungwon and Minseo as babies, even more than the baby photos of Seungmin that I saw, even more than all the puppies and kittens and bunnies in the world.

I was a grandpa.

A grandpa.

A. Freaking. Grandpa.

What the heck?

"Who's a little goochie goochie goo?"

I turned around at the sound of Seungmin's voice, hearing the smile in his words before I even saw his expression.

Hyunjae stared at Seungmin without understanding, his thoughts—if he even had any—indiscernible. Imprisoned in his crib, he was probably wondering where Mom and Dad went. They'd gone to a concert, leaving Hyunjae in his grandpas' care (Hyunjae's uncle, Jungwon, was performing overseas).

"That's right," Seungmin continued, despite our grandson's lack of response. "Your mom is a little goochie goochie goo!"

I snorted. "His mom is our daughter."

Seungmin grinned evilly at me and told me, in a stage whisper, "I know, but don't tell Hyunjae."

One of the best things about Hyunjae was that he got Seungmin so excited about everything. Unlike my cane-upheld, hobbling self, Seungmin would run around with excitement before every time we'd see Hyunjae. It was both hilarious and endearing at once, and I wondered what it would be like once Hyunjae was older and we would get a better sense of his personality.

Hyunjae made a small gurgling noise, and Seungmin's head whipped around again. "Child! What's wrong?" he inquired, dashing to the crib. I arrived at the site a few seconds later, hoping that Seungmin would calm down (and hoping that the gurgling wasn't a precursor for choking).

"I don't think anything's wrong," I said a few moments later, after the baby closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep in a non-choking way. Seungmin nodded, and we watched in silence, fascinated. The only place where Hyunjae didn't scream was in our house, miraculously.

He was related to neither of us by blood, seeing as his mother was adopted, and didn't even share a last name with us. But still, Hyunjae was still just as much our grandson as any blood-related child could be. And we loved him just as much as we would any biological child, same as we did with the twins.

And all those feelings at just two months old. Goodness, I was almost as emotional as Seungmin. Almost.

As we stood there, watching him, a thought occurred to me. "Isn't it weird that we have bags of Minseo's milk sitting in our kitchen?"

The sparkles in Seungmin's gaze died down on the spot, and he glared at me for a solid two minutes before responding.

"I love you, and you can tell me anything that's on your mind, but not that. Anything but that. Why, Hyunjin? Why?"

"I don't know." I glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "We're going to have to touch them."

It was something we hadn't done in thirty years—feeding babies. I was waiting until after the experience to decide whether or not I preferred mixing formula to handling real milk.

Oh, for goodness' sake. These were not thoughts I wanted to think.

"You're going to have to touch them," Seungmin corrected me. "I'm going for a nap now; good afternoon."

I groaned. "Sleep well, my love." Seungmin was always going for a nap whenever he didn't want to deal with something. I couldn't even argue, because he would be asleep by the time a retort would be fully formed in my mind.

He smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek, the skin around his eyes wrinkling deeply. "Good luck, and tell Hyunjae's parents that I say hi when they come back." Seungmin patted me on the shoulder and left; I stood in place, silent, until I could hear light snoring from the direction of our room.

I shook my head at Hyunjae, who was also sleeping. "What is it with old people and young people and always sleeping?"

No response, as expected. Seungmin offered a few snores from the other side of the wall, and I rolled my eyes. In search of cookies, I made a trip to the kitchen, but it reminded me of the fun bags I'd later handle, so I found myself back in the living room, watching Hyunjae sleep, cookieless but not disappointed.

Not disappointed, because how could I have been? Here in front of me was my grandchild, another ray of sunshine to illuminate the world that was my life. A few feet away, behind a wall, was another such ray, and more were scattered around the globe. Everywhere I could have looked, there was light.

There was no way to be disappointed, and in a small moment like that, I found one of the purest and most simply amazing kinds of joy.