18살이 되면

13살.
내가 조심스레 찾아갔을 때,
그 아이는 내 눈을 바라보며 말했다.

“엄마, 나 18살 되면 엄마랑 오래오래 같이 살 거야.”

아직 작고 여린 어깨였지만,
그 말은 단단했다.
어른들보다도 더 크고 진지하게,
나를 바라보며 말했으니까.

“지금은 그냥… 엄마가 자주 못 오는 거 이해해.
그래도… 나중엔 꼭 같이 살자.”

나는 아무 말도 할 수 없었다.
그 아이의 말 한마디 한마디가
내 안에 쌓인 죄책감과 아쉬움을 꿰뚫었기 때문이다.

‘늘 같이 하지 못한 시간’이
그 아이의 가슴에
아주 조용하게,
그러나 선명하게 남아 있었구나.

When You Turn Eighteen

When he was 13, I went to see him.
He looked at me with eyes full of hope and said,
“Mom… when I turn 18, I want to live with you. For a long, long time.”

His voice was calm, but firm.
Like he had carried that wish quietly for years.
Even though he understood,
even though he didn’t cry—
I knew the longing was still there.
I could feel it.
The ache of all the days we didn’t get to share.

He wasn’t asking for much.
Just time.
Time to be near.
Time to belong again.
Time to call “now” ours, not just “once.”

And now,
as that day slowly comes closer,
I hold onto that promise too.
Just like he did.
Because love waits.
Even if it hurts.