A Brief History of a Glove by Junwoo (William) Park

The baseball glove I received when I was four. My father

presented it to me on my fourth birthday, in front

of my relatives, smiles tugging in the corners

of their mouths. A big baseball glove, the dark color of brown, matching

with my chocolate cake. Dried mud blanketing its palm, tied laces

in small knots adorned it. The strong scent of leather dispersing within the air.

I put it on. It fell on my small hand.

Twenty years ago, grandfather brought my father to Jamsil Stadium

for the first time, blaring sounds of music echoing across the stands.

Stacks of hats and accessories dangled from the glass windows

of the stores, while the smell of fried chicken wafted in. Beer vendors

shouting on top of the crowds, fans hurriedly ran to get to their seats

before the game. That was when a brown glove caught father’s eye.

I think history is a river, endlessly flowing and dissipating beyond landscapes.

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Junwoo (William) Park is a Korean 13-year-old, 9th grader currently attending International School Manila in the Philippines. His work has been recognized by journals such as Cathartic Literary Magazine, One Art Poetry, etc. Aside from creative writing, he frequently enjoys playing football with his friends, solving math problems, and likes to read.