A Tribute to James Kim

They huddled as close together as they could in the freezing temperature of their car. They had just witnessed the third tire’s fire dwindle. A week snowbound in their car, eating on small crackers and baby’s milk. James knew the inevitable that he had to do something. He looked his wife in the eyes and she knew what he was thinking. Her eyes grew sad, welling up, her lips started to quiver.

He wouldn’t be gone long, he reassured her. Surely there are people living around here. They had just left the main road.

Gathering an extra pair of sweatpants, James went outside to set their last tire on fire. As he poured the last drops of gasoline, the car door opened and Kati came out. She threw her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest.

I love you, he said. H e than kissed his daughters before heading in the direction they had come.

The snow had been unrelenting for the past week and had covered any sign of the road. He headed for a familiar tree line. The terrain soon became relentless. He would sink to his waist in some areas but he pressed on, keeping his right shoulder in the direction of his family.

After several hours he stopped under a large pine tree and removed the snow from every crevice. His hands and face shook violently and he hopped up and down for warmth but there was none. He trekked on. He needed to make it to the ridge that was his only hope.

The burning started at his feet, seeping into his legs. It itched and burned horribly and he put ice directly on his thigh, giving relief. Minutes later the his legs throbbed again. He blocked it out, determined to continue. Liquid heat soared through his veins burning his arms. He removed his sweat pants and the cool air blew the pain away.

And James Kim ran.