Walking up 17 flights of stairs, one step at a time

The day began with packing bags. Technically speaking, they weren’t ours, but our dog’s. And it’s “our” dog because my husband and I originally adopted her back when we lived in Abu Dhabi. Eventually, my dad took it upon himself to adopt her from us, since we both worked full-time and she was spending weekdays alone.

The first time I laid eyes on her.

To celebrate my dad’s birthday, we planned a week-long family trip to Hawaii (minus my husband, who had to stay back for work). The plan was simple. He would babysit our dog while we were away.

Then came the catch.

My parents’ apartment building was undergoing elevator renovations. They live on the 17th floor. When we got back from Hawaii, we had to return our dog to my dad as soon as possible. The two of them are inseparable, and they’d already been apart far too long. Our dog (who we estimate is around 15 years old) was pining away for him. A reunion couldn't wait.

So, with our dog strapped to my husband’s front, a backpack full of her supplies on his back, and me lugging extra supplies for my parents, we started the climb. 17 flights. In 38°C (100.4°F) heat.

Our dog (now much bigger) confused but pretty comfortable.

Progress was slow, but we made it. My dad and our dog were finally reunited. (Our dog refused to look our way when we were leaving lest we take her from my dad again.)

After returning home, we showered, took a brief rest and then got back in the car. This time, we drove 49 km (30 miles) out to Gimpo, a city on the outskirts of Seoul.

A while back, one of my husband’s close friends asked if I knew a certain someone. I asked how she knew him, since he happened to be one of my brother’s oldest friends. She said they’d been colleagues years ago and stayed in touch. During a recent chat, she mentioned my husband, and my brother’s friend suddenly paused, saying that sounded very much like his friend’s sister’s husband.

(Whew. If you’re still following along, thank you.)

It turns out it was him! He’d always been a great cook and had recently opened his own spot. A cozy, bistro-style place. Naturally, we had to all get together there.

We arrived a little early. Sitting there, a hand-drawn piece of artwork caught my eye. There was something about it that felt special.

My brother’s friend had installed a light to shine on the piece.

I learned it was a gift from a customer who’d come in with her brother. She sent the drawing as a thank-you for a lovely meal. But the backstory stopped me. She’d been in two severe car accidents, lost most of her eyesight, and could barely move her right hand. Doctors told her that if she didn't force her hand to move, it would become permanently paralyzed.

Instead of giving up, she saw an opportunity—and started to draw.

Because of her condition, drawing a single line took an excruciatingly long time. But line by line, step by step, she drew anyway.

Looking at those meticulously drawn lines (after climbing 17 flights of stairs in sweltering heat to reunite a dog with her favorite human) I thought about how that’s what navigating life really looks like.

We often want the elevator ride. The fast, effortless way up. But when the elevator is down, you can choose to wait it out, but you can also choose to just start climbing. You take the first step, then the next, no matter how steep the climb or how slow the progress feels.

That’s how I want to approach my Mondays, ready to take the stairs if necessary, with michin geungjeong (미친 긍정, crazy optimism, just like the artist’s pen name). You start with what you can do, and you take it line by line, step by step, all the way to the top.

Artist & Location Links:

Artist Instagram: @illustrator_migueng

And if you’re in the neighborhood, here’s my brother’s friend’s bistro location Bogjubang (복주방). They’re closed on Mondays.