When the Laundry Dried

The door shuts behind you with a satisfying click, and both you and Yuri make your way to the car. Leaving the porch exposes you both to the early Saturday sun, and the crisp morning breeze fills your lungs and spreads through your body like some sort of infectious positivity.

You buckle in, same as she does, and the key goes into the ignition before the car hums to life. All systems go: gear in reverse, steering wheel primed, your hand on the brake, when all of a sudden, Yuri chimes in with, "Can I see the list again?"

It stops you in your tracks, "Don't you have it?" as your thumb lingers over the button that releases the brake. "No, you took it off the fridge door, next to the keys."

"Why would my keys be on the fridge door?"

You're off, admittedly, five minutes and a trip to the kitchen and back later than you should have. Yuri pulls down the sun visor as the light gets harsher, brighter, and returns her attention to her phone to sort out her other plans for the day.

"So tailor first, for the kids' uniforms," she lists out loud, "save the cash for the grocery store. I'm paying with my card." She taps a few buttons and continues, "Then we do groceries? Is that right?"

"No, we're getting ice cream. Market first." Your eyes are focused on the road, taking advantage of the quietness of the hour to drive wide around any squirrels that have yet to get off the asphalt.

"Okay, so we get ground pork and veggies," she mutters as she rearranges her notes. "And then we also need toilet paper." She continues out loud for a few more minutes, adjusting her to-do list as she goes, and you chime in when needed or when you feel she starts getting overwhelmed.

"Is it a hard no on the succulents?" The stoplight glows red as the display beneath it counts down from 90. You look over and find her glancing back at you, and what little you can see on her screen shows you this is the last thing on her list.

"You know what, sure. As long as you can find space for it." A well-placed hand on her head puts a smile on her face, and she turns back to her phone and types a few last things out.

The grocery bags thump and crinkle onto the countertop, "Careful of the eggs, Dad," she calls from the other room, and you go through the motion of wiping imaginary sweat from your brow. Pull out the contents of each and lay them out: eggs, meats, vegetables, snacks, cups of ramyeon, toilet paper, laundry detergents, what have you.

"Good morning, Dad," your little girl mumbles from the doorway. "Morning, Chief. Take a seat," you reply, still focused on sorting out your various items. She makes her way over to the stool on the other side of the counter, rubbing the sleep out her eyes, and as she settles onto the seat, she lets out a yawn.

"Haejoon was telling me about his dream," she says, "about playing his computer game against spiders that were cheating."

"Sounds wild. Your brother can be weird like that, huh?"

"Yeah, really weird." She yawns again and rests her head on the cool tile of the countertop.

You finally pull your son's arms through the holes in his uniform. "You're gonna have to button these yourself, Champ."

"But Mom buttons Haein's for her!"

"It's because I'm younger," his sister teases, a pompous grin on her lips.

"Only by a couple minutes!"

"Settle down, you two," Yuri interrupts, perfectly timed and exactly as loud as she needs to be. "Haein, do your own buttons," Your wife's voice is loving but firm, and her daughter lets out a whine, but ultimately she does them anyway.

The two finish putting on their uniforms, and after a couple twirls to show you how they fit, both you and Yuri clap before carefully taking them off again, trying not to crease them.

With the twins fast asleep, you turn off the light behind you and shut their bedroom door. You take careful steps down the not-so-well lit stairs, remind yourself to get lights for these sometime, and join your wife on the couch.

"Is Notting Hill okay?" she asks. The cursor hovers over the movie, and the synopsis fades into the screen. She hands you a spoon and offers you the bowl of rocky road and double dutch, and you watch as her eyes scan across the tiny words.

"Sure. Are you in the mood to cry?" You take a spoonful of ice cream, and immediately the fatigue of the day disappears.

"Eh, why not. I have you here, anyway," Yuri says, and she presses the button. The screen dims and buffers, and the movie starts.

You feel a little tug and a snuggle on your sleeve, so you bring your arm around her. Plant a kiss on her hair, and watch as she brings a marshmallow to her lips. The Universal Pictures splash reflects in her eyes, and at that moment you do two things: first, brace yourself for when the tears come, and second, thank your lucky stars it's you that gets to sit here with her.