to be determined [A FORMER WATTPAD FEATURED STORY]

SIX

Dr. Park tells me today is Thanksgiving. Then he asks me if I recall any Thanksgiving meals; if I recall what Thanksgiving even means.

I don't.

"It's a day to give thanks for everything good in life." Dr. Park says in his usual, quiet tone that has a slight crackle beneath it every so often. "I don't celebrate it."

"Why not?" I ask.

"I was raised by a very conservative Korean family," he states. "I celebrate Chuseok instead."

"Chuseok?"

"It's Korean Thanksgiving Day."

"Oh," I said. "Should I celebrate Thanksgiving?" The words scratch at my throat.

He shrugs, readjusting himself on the floral patterned chair to the side of my bed.

"I don't know." His lips move back and forth as he taps his clean cut fingernails against the arm of the chair. "What are you grateful for?"

"Well let's see." I look up to the ceiling and around the room. My eyes wander for a few seconds. "I'm laying in a hospital bed, and I have no recollection of anything before I got here. Not to mention that it's all alongside being bald now, so . . . I'd say nothing."

Dr. Park laughs. "That's the spirit."

He stays with me for the rest of his lunch break, talking to me about Korean traditions and how he got his dark eyes from his Dad who passed away from stage four lung cancer two years ago - too many cigars is what Ki says.

Shit, sorry. I mean Dr. Park.

He tells me he'll get me Korean food tomorrow. The good kind. Apparently Korean food made in America doesn't taste the same, but the place he gets it from captures the essence of his culture in an unimaginable way – makes him feel like he's actually eating in Korea.

At least that's what he says.

I believe him.