There is a season of youth that comes to everyone. In Korean, we often call it “cheongchun (靑春),” a word that literally translates to “blue spring.” The dictionary defines it as a time when new buds sprout in vibrant green, a metaphor for the vitality and freshness of life. Cheongchun emboldens us with courage to face the unknown, while also delivering discouragement when the world does not bend to our will. But in truth, youth is not just a matter of time. Even as the years pass, youth continues—just in different forms.

I recently watched the Netflix series “When Life Gives You Tangerines” and was deeply moved. Set in 1950s Jeju, the drama follows the life of Ae-Soon, a girl with literary dreams, and Gwan-Sik, her steadfast companion. From a young age, Ae-Soon was a spirited girl who loved literature and dreamed of becoming a poet. Unfortunately, due to the constraints of her era, she was unable to become a protagonist of the proverb “a dragon is born in a brook” (which refers to someone from humble beginnings achieving great success). She shouldered the weight of parenthood while raising three children and also experienced the loss of one child.

Despite what seemed like a downhill journey, Ae-Soon finally became a poet in the twilight of her life. It took decades and countless life changes for the once-little girl with dreams to find her voice in verse. Some might call her life a failure because she couldn’t fulfill her childhood dreams. But Ae-Soon lived with depth—as the mother of Geum-Myeong, Eun-Myeong, and Dong-Myeong, as a wife, as a kind neighbor in Dodong Village, and as a teacher who helped elders learn how to read and write.

Ae-Soon’s ability to live youthfully through every season of life was made possible by Gwan-Sik’s unwavering support. As newlyweds, he promised her that he would help her become a poet, and he kept that promise. When Ae-Soon finally became one, her wrinkled face still held the same girlish charm—a testament to the flower he had nurtured and never let wilt. Thanks to both his devotion and her own resilience, Ae-Soon didn’t see youth as a “time gone by,” but as a “continuous present.” After Ae-Soon’s brilliantly shining youth fades, we see her as an elderly woman. Her image naturally reminds us of the elders around us, making us reflect on the long journeys they’ve traveled through life.

I believe youth comes in many shapes. There’s the ideal round youth of our twenties, but there are also square and triangular versions—bent by time or chipped at the corners. By the time her hair had turned gray, she published “Oh Ae-Soon’s Poetry Collection,” filling her life with yet another form of youth different from that of her younger years and middle age—although it wasn’t a perfect, conventional shape. Like Ae-Soon, even if the current shape of your youth isn’t perfectly formed, there’s no need to maintain the original form of youthfulness. After all, youth is determined not by time but by the shape of one's heart.

We, just past our twenties, still have so much joy left ahead. The challenges we’ll face may come in ten years or maybe even tomorrow. But if we don’t let the shape of our youth define us, the spirit of youth within us will never fade. Like Ae-Soon says in the series—“Back then, If I’d known that spring was truly spring, I would’ve lived my life to the fullest.”—I promise myself to recognize each moment as a vivid spring day. And so, I faced the spring before me head-on. Today, the air is crisp and clear, and pink cherry blossoms are fluttering gently through the sky.

By Yoon Seo-Young, the Editor-in-Chief of The Hyowon Herald

Translated by Seo Yoo-Jung