SARAH'S STORY-- below is an account of her early life which Sarah wrote as a class assignment, probably during junior high school. (She did not title it.)

There have been times as I wondered what category should my life be? Sad life, happy life, interesting life, or a meaningful life? I'd say interesting life, but now that I've thought about it longer, I'd have to say I had a lucky life.

BEFORE SIX YEARS OLD

I woke up with a bright yellow sunlight across my face, which came from our one and only small window. I could see all the dust in the air. I slowly got up and looked around the room we used for eating and sleeping. It surprised me to see my Dad and Mom were already gone someplace. I slid our glass door which led to the smallest kitchen in the world, I bet, and washed my face. I felt as if our kitchen was different. I took a quick glance around the room and noticed all the
colorful string hanging on thewall. I walked over to the yellow string. It looked so beautiful with the streak of sunlight across it. I felt so peaceful and happy with the strings in my kitchen. Then something startled me. My Mom and Dad came into the kitchen. My Mom was holding a baby. My father turned to me and said, "It's your new brother!" I was so happy.

BEFORE TEN YEARS OLD

Life was so different for me as I grew older. It's very hard for me to explain but maybe you'll understand if I tell you some stories.

I didn't start my school years as great as I hoped it would. First of all, I could never do my homework because I'd have to help my Mom work or take care of my brother. When you go to Korean school, you always want to do your homework; otherwise you'll be hurt physically. That's how it was for me. I was physically hurt by the teachers every day. They have an inch-wide wood they use to hit kids with. If I wasn't so afraid of my parents then, I might have told them about school and the homework. That wasn't possible because my parents were also hurting me physically. They would hit me or kick me for no reason.

My parents drink a lot so that's one reason why they hit me. Then the other reason is if they had a bad day or my brother wasn't good, then they'd take it out on me. Sometimes they won't give me food for three days. They were also hurting me emotionally. They won't let me eat food with the rest of the family. I was to wait outside when my family was eating and when they were finished I was to eat the leftover food in the corner. I was never mad. I was just sad. "My parents didn't want me." When I said that I meant it.

My dad came home late and I figured he had a bad day. I was nine years old, in the middle of third grade. I remembered it being a chilly evening. My father looked at me and then talked to my mother privately while I was getting ready to go outside, since they were going to eat soon. Before I could go outside my father said, "Don't come back." At first I didn't take it seriously. I waited outside for my Mom to tell me I could come back. That didn't happen. I waited and waited in the cold air. My feet were numb. I couldn't wait to go inside. I was so tired, hungry, and cold. Anything would've sounded good to me then. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt a flashlight shine on my face. As I opened my eyes I expected to see my mother, but instead I saw my father and his angry face. He told me to get away from this neighborhood.

It hurts me too much to go further in the story. I will tell you one thing. That night I felt like a bum. I slept on a park bench on that cold day. I was awakened by a policeman. He took me to the police station and let me sleep there. The next day I told the policeman my parents were dead. I was too afraid to go back home. From there I was sent to the orphanage. I don't remember much about the place. Then after a year I was adopted.

TEN YEARS AND UP

I was so small for my age that the people in charge of Holt told my American parents I was six years old. So I had to do first, second, and third grade over. America's like heaven compared to Korea. After six years my American parents decided to go back to Korea for a visit. By this time my parents knew my real age and that my family wasn't dead.

I was excited to go back to Korea, but when I arrived there I didn't like it. Everything came back to me. The memories I have of Korea. Kids still got hit by a one-inch wood from a teacher. The place is still dirty. Matthew and I came home a month from Korea while my Dad stayed there. The day before he left Korea he found my Korean Dad. I was up in my room listening to the radio when I heard Matt (my brother) telling me I had an important call. I ran downstairs quickly and met my Mom in the kitchen. She said my Korean father was on the telephone. I couldn't believe it. I said "Hello". On the other end my Korean father spoke to me in Korean. I could understand him emotionally, but I couldn't understand him physically. Do you know what I mean?

Sarah Bricker

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