Personal Narrative: A Day With My Brother Keon

One typical summer day when I was seven years old, my brother Keon threw a coin in the fountain near the Parliament and resolved never to grow up. I remembered with absolute clarity the leaves of the trees stirring in the air; the faint rays of sunlight glittering on the water; and the smell of freshly mowed grass. It was early in the morning. Still, I fell into the rhythm of the people passing by with their jackets over their shoulders or lazing in the sun. For many, it was just a passive recreation. However, for us, it was our favorite place.
As children, we were fascinated by many things, and the most everyday object could evoke admiration. We loved to peer down at the coins lying at the bottom of the fountain and imagine what kind of wishes they carried. They were exceptional treasures for the observers we were as we would tirelessly falter the boundary between the mundane and the extraordinary until we ran out of imagination.
“Can all wishes come true?” I asked him. “I don’t know. If you have a strong heart, maybe you can turn them all into reality.”
“But Keon, some things are impossible. For instance, what you just wished for. No matter what, people will

Seeing my brother’s face never failed to send shivers down my spine, but this time it hit me harder than ever. Memories worked in a funny way. Sometimes they came back to us when we least expected it. They would sing tales of a past you thought was long gone or discarded, and yet they would find meaning in the present. The things you didn’t understand started to make sense. Signs were everywhere. And the day would come when that cherished, sweet memory would become bittersweet. Of course, some hard truths were harmless. Like the day you found out about Santa. That Panda plush definitely wasn’t hidden in your parents’ drawer because Santa had to drop it off earlier. But others were harder to