Sitting in the dark theater, waiting for the lights to fade out, I felt a surge of emotion. When the room went pitch black, my only thought was of Jiwoo, my niece, who was seconds or moments before making a stage debut. Now a university drama student, she recently passed a professional audition and was making her debut on a commercial stage. As the lights dimmed, my mind raced back through the years, the extraordinary moments that defined this actress.
Among my wife’s nieces, she was the youngest. But she stood out. She was never one to approach just anyone; she was selective. She would stay laser-focused on new faces, shrewdly gauging if they were "worthy" of being her fans. Only after she was certain of their devotion would she stick to the circle of her fans. Jiwoo figured out that I’m her biggest fan.
I vividly remember a hilarious, yet heart-stopping moment when she was just 3. She toddled toward me with her little hands up, asking for a hug. As I was willing to pick her up, she happened to rest her hands on my chest. Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropped, and she whispered in pure shock, "Uncle, you have breasts just like my mom!" I was so surprised that I almost dropped her.
That day, Jiwoo came up to me and said, "Uncle, buy me something yummy!" She then guided me to the store.
When we arrived, I asked her what she wanted, and she picked out a tiny candy. Thinking about all the effort she took to lead me there, I asked, "Don't you want anything else?" But she just said, "This is enough!' and started dancing while waving her candy in the air.
Once, my wife attended a family gathering without me. She told me later that Jiwoo had asked her, "Where is my uncle?" I found it funny and sweet that she remembered me so clearly. It really made me miss her.
Jiwoo was always sensitive to love. I remember her retreating to a quiet room when a new baby joined the family, weeping silently because the spotlight had shifted. Years later, when I teased her about it, she coolly remarked, "I never did that. You must be mistaken."
I once playfully teased her, "Your head is a bit large, isn't it?" Most girls would have cried, but with composure, Jiwoo looked me straight in the eye and said, "Uncle, isn't it impolite to say such things to a lady?" Startled, I stammered an apology, calling her a "grown-up Miss." She immediately corrected me: "I’m not a 'Miss.' I’m a 'Lady.'"
While other kids rushed to build a snowman, she stopped them: "Wait, it’s not ready yet!" She carefully flattened the base to ensure it was stable before allowing the next piece. When the snowman was finished, she commanded us all to applaud. We all obeyed.
Fast forward to today, and that day has finally arrived. There I was, ticket in hand. The wit, boldness and charm of Jiwoo that only I knew when she was little have now become a joy for the audience.
Source: Korea Times News
