Birthday

By Evelyn Kwak

I wake up 
just like any other day
This used to be
a special day
I get envious of those
who carries the warmth of their birthday

When I step outside the room
I smell the sizzle of the miyeok-guk
and I see my beautiful mom
who reminds me how
people utter that we are too much alike

I remember reading a science paper
where it said
Women own mitochondria from birth
that predetermines their child
and only the daughters get to 
carry them on

I stopped throwing parties a long time ago
I avoid eating the guk, too
Full of oil, slippery with seaweed, a reminder of how
she would have sipped it so many times in 
the snowy winter of 2008

But she continues to boil it every single birthday,
despite looking at my bowl,
untouched
For a reason I might be able to understand 
years later

Evelyn Kwak is a high school sophomore living in Seoul, South Korea. Outside of writing, she finds joy in listening to different genres of music and trying out new foods. She is also passionate about addressing political and human rights issues through participating in multiple student-led organizations. She will be joining fellow young writers across the world in the Sewanee Young Writers’ Conference this past summer.