Why was the smoke from the mosquito fogger truck so mesmerizing back then?
Whenever that white billow of smoke rose up, every kid in the neighborhood would chase after it as if we were hypnotized.
Running inside that fog, it felt like we were flying above the clouds.
My memories of winter are just as vivid.
I remember lying on the toasty floor warmed by the coal briquettes my mother had just changed.
There was nothing better than peeling tangerines while watching cartoons on the old CRT TV, belly pressed against the warmth.
And when it snowed? We didn’t need to call anyone. We just ran outside.
We miss the romance of those days, having snowball fights until our hands froze and the sun went down.
But these days, it’s rare to see children running and playing together in the neighborhood.
The alleys are empty, and it seems the era has come where middle-aged dads like us have to fill the void left by “neighborhood friends.”
It feels a bit bittersweet that dads have to be the ones initiating the snowball fights now, replacing the friends who used to be there.
What are your most vivid memories of summer and winter from those days?
Original article in Korean: [link]
