“Here, this is your new address, so don’t ever lose it! All right?” About two years ago, my husband repeatedly reminded me of the importance of those strange symbols, while I only half‑heartedly pretended to listen. Then he added, “When you go into your address, you must remember your password so the kids can’t just wander in. Find a word that’s easy to memorize and hard to forget.”

Since I’ve never been good at keeping secrets (God must be laughing), even the idea of creating a secret word known only to me felt unbearably uncomfortable. But I had no choice—I typed in the first “secret word” that came to mind.

The problem was, I never even bothered to look at, let alone use, those ridiculous addresses starting with things like http://www.com. Then one day, when I actually needed to get in, I realized I was completely lost. I was sure I had written it down somewhere, but I couldn’t find it, nor could I remember it.

My husband clicked his tongue and made me another address, warning, “If you forget this one, you’ll become a lost child of the 21st century.” And again, he asked for a secret word. This time, I simply gave him one and openly asked the kids to memorize it for me.

Even then, during the first few attempts, I couldn’t find my way in, so I would call out, “Kids, what was Mom’s secret word again?” They would happily shout back, “Mom! It’s that one!”

And so, I barely managed to join the family of netizens. Even now, I can only manage sending and receiving emails, and whenever I need to look something up, I have to call the kids one by one for help. Watching how freely they navigate the internet leaves me speechless. They already have their own beautifully designed homepages, full of information flowing back and forth. Sometimes I can’t help but marvel at them.

Lately, I’ve been stressed again because of computers. This time, it’s because of a family program called E‑Circle, which the whole family uses together. Any family member can enter freely, and inside E‑Circle there are endless convenient spaces—places to record schedules, places for open and honest conversations.

Yet, I can’t hide the resistance that rises in me, perhaps out of pride, as if I’m losing all human warmth and fragrance before the triumph of modern technology. I often find myself becoming an outsider to the conversations my family shares in cyberspace.

But I can’t stay afraid of this new world forever. Even if I resist change, life demands it more and more each day, and a new way of living is waiting right at my doorstep. People say that in a few months, with Y2K approaching, everyone is scrambling to prepare food, water, candles, and matches. But to me, it all feels like something out of a distant fantasy world—completely unreal. Am I the only one who feels this way?

Today, thinking of my family waiting for me in E‑Circle, I suddenly found myself longing deeply for the old days—the earthy scent of our yard when cosmos flowers were in full bloom. Our gate was always wide open, and people came and went at all hours. Women carrying babies on their backs and wooden bowls on their heads would rest there.

We would spread out a mat, sit together as a family, and enjoy generous plates of chive pancakes, red apples, and fresh chestnuts. Neighbors would gather one by one, and soon, Mrs. Seosoon—famous for her sharp tongue—would begin her tear‑jerking life stories once again.

That yard was a counseling room for village women, a matchmaking place for grown children, a meeting spot for neighborhood dogs, and a festival ground for bees and dragonflies carried in by the breeze. It was a place where anyone could come and go freely, without passwords, sharing joys and sorrows alike.

As I try to grasp the trailing edge of the years gone by, like someone longing for a beloved, one verse comes to me: “…All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.” (1 Peter 1:24–25)

In this confusing age, this autumn verse opens my ears wide, comforting my soul as I stand bewildered at the gate of E‑Circle.

Ah—my eternal King in this ever‑changing world!

— Yoon Wan‑Hee, 9/7/1999