These days, the night sky is particularly clear. On a clear night in the southeastern United States, the starlight is somewhat faint, but the moonlight shines quite distinctly.

Then, when I suddenly look up at the moon, strangely, the crescent moon keeps taking me back to the past. Not the half moon or the full moon, but that slender crescent moon.

Seeing the crescent moon makes my heart feel a bit restless. It seems like there shouldn't be any special reason, but for me, that moon is a small window that reminds me of my military days. Those moments when I looked up at the sky while standing guard in Korea are still vivid.

In particular, the shifts from 10 PM to 2 AM were literally 'loneliness in silence.' Standing alone at the post, the only thing that felt like a friend in the darkness where all sounds were buried was the moonlight. Every time, I would look at the crescent moon and have the same thought.

"What will I look like when I see this moon when I grow old?"

That question always made my heart flutter. I cannot know the future, but just watching the moon change made me long to live well, mixed with vague expectations and fears.

And now, I see that crescent moon again in this unfamiliar land, the United States. The decision to immigrate was a choice for a new beginning, but the reality is not easy. Approaching fifty, I am the father of a first-year college daughter, and my income always falls short of expectations. Every morning, sharing a cup of coffee with my wife, I cannot help but worry about how to get through this month.

I try hard to ensure my daughter doesn't worry about tuition, and I strive to make my wife feel no guilt even when she expresses a desire to buy something. Sometimes I wonder, 'Why have I come this far?' and I feel a sense of emptiness wishing to be a smarter and cooler person if I were to be reborn.

But this is my life.

The fact that I could see the crescent moon again might be a great fortune in itself. The 'future me' that I vaguely imagined while looking up at the sky from a remote post in Korea is now alive, supporting my family, watching my daughter attend college, and sometimes ending the day with a sigh mixed with laughter.

I hope that someday, at the age of 65, as an old man, I can look at the crescent moon again and say this.

"Still, I have lived well. Enduring, loving, and coming this far without major issues."

When that time comes, this night sky will also become another precious memory. The moon will wax and wane again. So will my life. Thin but warm, slow but sincere.

Today, I look at the crescent moon again. It is lonely, but there is comfort within it.

And I engrave a small resolution in my heart.

"Even if it's a bit hard, I have come this far."