By: Isaac Yoo
As I walk home during the desolate, cold days of spring,
I hear the lonely wind howling in the air,
The pine tree is as still as the lamppost and the crunch of the rust-colored twigs beneath my shoes occasionally break the silence,
I finally reach my home, exhausted,
The red bricks of my home seem agonizingly similar as I walk up the old, crumbling stairs,
I grasp the black, unstable rail,
I set my sight on the doorknob,
Before I ring the doorbell, time stops,
Doubts break into my mind slowly, but leaves like the car sprinting past me,
I am prepared to hear the same meaningless assurance, words that mean nothing,
“Ding”, I hear the ring of the doorbell,
I reassure myself there is nothing to hope,
I am a prisoner chained down by doubt, negativity, and hopelessness,
I drag myself onto the vibrant red carpet only to be welcomed by the pounding footsteps of my mother,
Suddenly my mother rejoices like church bells in a wedding,
I experience a wave of relief, knowing that the pain of waiting for the results is over,
As the blanket of night covers over the Earth,
I hear the sound of crickets,
I see the leaves outside dancing in the wind,
As I see the moon, a shimmering diamond rise,
I look forward to another day full of joy and happiness.
