Horcruxes

I've been trying to write about my trip to the States for Christmas for a couple of weeks now, and have finally come to the conclusion that I just can't do it.  I'm way too emotional about it.  It was absolutely wonderful.


It was also totally traumatizing.

Planes got delayed...cancelled...I traveled over 24 hours to get there, and over 24 hours to get back again.  I got stuck in Chicago...I caught a cold...I got sulphite poisoning...I was insanely jet lagged when I got there...then jet lagged when I got home...and it all cost me an entire month's salary.

I'm really jealous of people whose entire families and all their friends live in the same place.  Mine are all over the place.  So even though I went "home," I didn't really feel 100% at "home."  I was in America, but not home.  But..when you've been gone for a year...that's pretty much close enough.  And where is "home," really, anyways?  Does it even really exist?

I got to see Noodle Pop, though.  I think that made it all worthwhile.

I also got to find out there's another one on the way!  I've named this one "Bean."  When I get back in October...there will be a new baby!  Noodle Pop will be a big sister!  How exciting!

It was so cool to be back in the States.  I cried when I saw the "Welcome to the United States of America" sign in customs.  Everything looked strange, all over the place...the people, the stores...strip malls...I couldn't believe the size of my brother's refrigerator, either!  It was a monster!  Or, so I thought.  My family assured me it was, in fact, a standard-sized fridge.  It was weird riding in the car and seeing the road signs...going to the mall and finding clothes in MY size...and seeing people--even women--as tall as me...some even taller!!!  It was all just so...novel and bright and shiny!

I felt like I was seeing the Statue of Liberty after a 3 month long boat ride under harsh conditions in the 1800's

But seeing my family for only a few short days was really, really hard.  Knowing I was just turning around and leaving for Korea again in a couple days made the joy of seeing them cut like a knife.

If only they could have felt the gut-wrenching pain behind every subtle tear I shed.  It was as beautiful as a poem, too cheesy for me to write.  How amazing and lucky it is to have a family to miss so badly.

Here come the tears again.  See, I just can't do this.

When I got back to Seoul, it felt like it had just been a dream.  It was over that fast.

The whole thing was just so painful, though.  I cried the whole way there in anticipation.  Then I cried while I was there, and I cried the whole way home (especially when my flight got cancelled and I was stuck in Chicago, alone).  Then I woke up after a nap in my bed in Seoul and it was like it hadn't even happened!  Had I just hugged my family?  Had I not?  Had I not just gone into Trader Joe's and Whole Foods, picking up various items off the shelves just to touch them longingly?  I got to buy some of them...but others I just had to look at and have it rubbed in my face what I've been missing.  You can't bring heavy stuff, or fresh stuff, overseas.  It's just not allowed.

WAAAAAH!!!!  I want to bring this back with me but it's illegal!

Walking through those stores was kind of like walking through a fake, virtual reality display almost.  But it also caused schizophrenic moments where it felt totally normal, like I had never left home, and didn't live on the other side of the Earth.  It was totally weird/amazing/confusing/exciting/sad/fun.

OMG!

OMG OMG OMG!!!

This can't be real.

I would pick things up off the shelf and hug them for a minute.  "Put it in the cart!" my mom would say.

"I just want to hold it for a minute," I'd say, clinging fresh basil or organic woven wheat Triscuit-style crackers to my chest tightly.

I hugged the checkout lady at Trader Joe's, too.  I'm not ashamed.

OMFG IT'S A TARGET.

I had a blast in Target, too.  Spent a ridiculous amount of money.  Came home with medicine (I can get things like Zyrtec and ibuprofen in Korea, but only 10 pills at a time)...and things like Lip Smackers and trashy gossip magazines for my friends back in Seoul...colored computer paper and rainbow highlighters for school...Pop Rocks and Nerds and Sour Patch Kids for my South African friends who have never heard of such things...it was really fun!

"These are really good!" said my friend Gene.  "But--why do they call them 'Nerds'?"

I can't wait for her to try the Pop Rocks.

It's also really fun to slap a bunch of American magazines down on a table at a bar with six other American/Canadian girls who haven't been home in months and months.  It's like throwing several raw steaks into an enclosure of hungry tigers.  You just watch them attack and devour them.

I slapped a stack of magazines down on the table, and two seconds later, it looked like this

As enriching and amazing as it is to travel and move and to live abroad...it's times like these that make me realize how tough it is to be nomadic.  I just feel so torn.  There are pieces of my soul all over the place.  I'm pretty sure there's a piece of it under a lemon tree somewhere in California, where, in my mind, the little snails I used to catch are still crawling around in the debris.  There's a big piece with my childhood friend, Jill, who I had to leave at age 7 and 14.  There's also a big piece with my other childhood best friend, Chad.  He's the person I think of when I hear that song, "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys.

I left a piece behind in Germany, as well.  And then there's gigantic pieces with my family...those little girls, Elie and Ady...my cousins Caroline and Emily...my brother, my sister in law, my parents, and my niece.  And a huge piece is, of course, in Knoxville, with all my friends.  Let me tell you...when they told me I was stuck in Chicago, I looked so longingly at the departures board and two flights leaving for Knoxville, and my heart almost jumped out of my chest in its attempt to board one of those planes.

Tears again.

Yet another piece will be left behind when I leave Seoul.  How many times can I split my soul and get away with it?

But no matter what...I always seem to have a ton left.  I'm pretty sure I'll never run out.

It really doesn't matter if I'm in a city I've never lived before...if I'm seeing/hearing this (Dad playing his guitar)...I'm home.

Yes, I'd travel 13,382 miles for this!

I even brought home some Korean culture!