Thanks to the Snow, Maybe

Thanks to the Snow, Maybe

By Lim Young-ae

Although winter is my least favorite season, whenever it snows, my heart still pounds like that of a teenage girl. It is a blessing for us to have snow during this desolate season.

Most people might have special memories about snow, myself included.

After meeting a young man, my early 20s were filled with periods of anxiety and pain. Cherishing somebody whose mind was somewhere else was like embracing a thorny rose in one's bosom, especially for a young woman who had strong self-esteem in those days.

Even though hurt by the thorns from time to time, somehow I could not throw the rose away from my heart as its fragrance was too fascinating to forget. I could neither love nor hate him. He was too remote to love but at the same too compelling to give up. I would rather suffer than just ignore him.

One winter day I managed to call him out for a date. Even if the sky was dark gray that morning, my mind was sky blue all day long.

We went to the recently opened coffee shop ``Ye Jeon" in Wolmido, Incheon. It was pretty popular owing to its nice atmosphere and beautiful view of the sea. We were lucky to get seats near the window facing it. The interior was great due to the exotic pictures on the walls, classic furniture, fireplaces, pink roses and candles at each table. In my eyes, however, the most impressive piece was the ivory grand piano at the center of the hall. It was natural for me to keep watching as I'd been taking jazz piano lessons.

All of a sudden, somebody exclaimed, ``Wow! It's snowing," and everyone looked out the window. We were both captivated by the magnificent scenery. It was snowing heavily, filling the space between the sea and the sky at dusk.

At that moment, the boundaries of every contrast started to break down; sea and sky, day and night, fantasy and reality, love and hatred, and even the boundary between others and self.

After a long silence, still fixing his eyes on the sea, he asked, ``Do you happen to play the piano?" I just smiled at him and instead of saying ``Yes," I moved to the piano at the center of the hall.

The tune I played was Tombe la Neige by Belgian singer Salvatore Adamo. I had just practiced it a great deal to learn the rumba rhythm. Furthermore, I had every reason to be encouraged to see his unusually happy face. It was as if I played from my heart rather than my fingers. The other couples in the cafe seemed to be spellbound during the tune and gave me a big hand afterward. They all asked for an encore. I was released from their attention after playing two more selections.

When I returned to my seat, he gave me a napkin on which something was written. It was none other than an impromptu poem entitled ``A piano and a woman." He was, at least in my eyes at that moment, a prince on a white horse!

He seemed to be a bit amazed by my performance. I was fascinated once again by his sensitivity hidden behind the cold reason. I felt that he was looking at me with a deep love, unlike before. We were selected as ``Today's Couple" and didn't have to pay for the coffee.

That evening, looking at the snowy seaside, he proposed to me, asking, ``Could you please play the piano only for me for the rest of your life?" It was the very moment that I had been anxiously looking forward to for several years and most dramatic. He had seared my heart by giving me a long, painful time with his cold attitude toward me.

I couldn't dare to say the short word '``yes" verbally. The only thing I could do was just nod my head like a little elementary schoolgirl with tears in my eyes.

In retrospect, my life has been somewhat harsh and mean on many occasions. However, once in a blue moon, we come across a day on which everything around us is unbelievably friendly and cooperative, like the gorgeous ``Ye Jeon," its ivory grand piano, the ivory coat I was wearing that day, the ivory sea, sky and snow, Adamo`s snow song, the hypnotized couples in a group (maybe thanks to the snow), the poem written on the napkin...

All of those things might have been preparing and waiting for me to receive a long-awaited proposal. (I tried to believe so).

Come to think of it, that evening was as if we were in Chagall's ``I and the Village" ― in the snow in which everything looked so unrealistic, such as a flying couple in the sky.

We, though, could not float in the sky as soon as we got out of Chagall's village (Wolmido). Like Cinderella who has just heard the bell at midnight, right after stepping on the ground, we had to sigh deeply to find a pumpkin, which used to be a golden coach for us.

After getting married, I couldn't keep our promise. Life was too challenging for me to play the piano for him all the time. Even though we had to move several times, somehow I could not throw away the bulky white elephant since I believed that my old piano was like Cinderella's glass shoe, which would take us to the beautiful village again.

Last year, I started to learn how to play the violin. Instead of playing ``Tombe la Neige," as on that dreamy winter evening, I have been practicing a Norwegian piece: ``For my precious love" (Jeg ser deg sote lam).

Now that we've gone through many ups and downs, I don't need a fairy tale any more. As long as I can play music for my now ``not very young" prince, our humble apartment can be our ``Chagall's village."

The writer is an essayist and freelance English and Korean Teacher. She can be reached at Thanks to the Snow, Maybe

By Lim Young-ae

Although winter is my least favorite season, whenever it snows, my heart still pounds like that of a teenage girl. It is a blessing for us to have snow during this desolate season.

Most people might have special memories about snow, myself included.

After meeting a young man, my early 20s were filled with periods of anxiety and pain. Cherishing somebody whose mind was somewhere else was like embracing a thorny rose in one's bosom, especially for a young woman who had strong self-esteem in those days.

Even though hurt by the thorns from time to time, somehow I could not throw the rose away from my heart as its fragrance was too fascinating to forget. I could neither love nor hate him. He was too remote to love but at the same too compelling to give up. I would rather suffer than just ignore him.

One winter day I managed to call him out for a date. Even if the sky was dark gray that morning, my mind was sky blue all day long.

We went to the recently opened coffee shop ``Ye Jeon" in Wolmido, Incheon. It was pretty popular owing to its nice atmosphere and beautiful view of the sea. We were lucky to get seats near the window facing it. The interior was great due to the exotic pictures on the walls, classic furniture, fireplaces, pink roses and candles at each table. In my eyes, however, the most impressive piece was the ivory grand piano at the center of the hall. It was natural for me to keep watching as I'd been taking jazz piano lessons.

All of a sudden, somebody exclaimed, ``Wow! It's snowing," and everyone looked out the window. We were both captivated by the magnificent scenery. It was snowing heavily, filling the space between the sea and the sky at dusk.

At that moment, the boundaries of every contrast started to break down; sea and sky, day and night, fantasy and reality, love and hatred, and even the boundary between others and self.

After a long silence, still fixing his eyes on the sea, he asked, ``Do you happen to play the piano?" I just smiled at him and instead of saying ``Yes," I moved to the piano at the center of the hall.

The tune I played was Tombe la Neige by Belgian singer Salvatore Adamo. I had just practiced it a great deal to learn the rumba rhythm. Furthermore, I had every reason to be encouraged to see his unusually happy face. It was as if I played from my heart rather than my fingers. The other couples in the cafe seemed to be spellbound during the tune and gave me a big hand afterward. They all asked for an encore. I was released from their attention after playing two more selections.

When I returned to my seat, he gave me a napkin on which something was written. It was none other than an impromptu poem entitled ``A piano and a woman." He was, at least in my eyes at that moment, a prince on a white horse!

He seemed to be a bit amazed by my performance. I was fascinated once again by his sensitivity hidden behind the cold reason. I felt that he was looking at me with a deep love, unlike before. We were selected as ``Today's Couple" and didn't have to pay for the coffee.

That evening, looking at the snowy seaside, he proposed to me, asking, ``Could you please play the piano only for me for the rest of your life?" It was the very moment that I had been anxiously looking forward to for several years and most dramatic. He had seared my heart by giving me a long, painful time with his cold attitude toward me.

I couldn't dare to say the short word '``yes" verbally. The only thing I could do was just nod my head like a little elementary schoolgirl with tears in my eyes.

In retrospect, my life has been somewhat harsh and mean on many occasions. However, once in a blue moon, we come across a day on which everything around us is unbelievably friendly and cooperative, like the gorgeous ``Ye Jeon," its ivory grand piano, the ivory coat I was wearing that day, the ivory sea, sky and snow, Adamo`s snow song, the hypnotized couples in a group (maybe thanks to the snow), the poem written on the napkin...

All of those things might have been preparing and waiting for me to receive a long-awaited proposal. (I tried to believe so).

Come to think of it, that evening was as if we were in Chagall's ``I and the Village" ― in the snow in which everything looked so unrealistic, such as a flying couple in the sky.

We, though, could not float in the sky as soon as we got out of Chagall's village (Wolmido). Like Cinderella who has just heard the bell at midnight, right after stepping on the ground, we had to sigh deeply to find a pumpkin, which used to be a golden coach for us.

After getting married, I couldn't keep our promise. Life was too challenging for me to play the piano for him all the time. Even though we had to move several times, somehow I could not throw away the bulky white elephant since I believed that my old piano was like Cinderella's glass shoe, which would take us to the beautiful village again.

Last year, I started to learn how to play the violin. Instead of playing ``Tombe la Neige," as on that dreamy winter evening, I have been practicing a Norwegian piece: ``For my precious love" (Jeg ser deg sote lam).

Now that we've gone through many ups and downs, I don't need a fairy tale any more. As long as I can play music for my now ``not very young" prince, our humble apartment can be our ``Chagall's village."

The writer is an essayist and freelance English and Korean Teacher.