squids & trains.

i stood on the other side 

of the security tape. 

watching as my lovely mother 

extended her passport 

[with two hands]

to the security guard. 

she flashed the peace sign. 

her shoulders signaled 

a deep and slow sigh. 

a final goodbye was mouthed. 

and then my lovely mother 

disappeared behind the security barrier.

i stood very still.

the people bustled around me.

the giant clock hanging high over head 

moved on.

i felt convinced she might reemerge 

from behind that barrier.

but she didn't.

she journeyed on.

breathed in. breathed out.

and i realized i must too.

i caught the express subway.

from incheon international airport 

to seoul station.

and just like that, we pulled away.

we were moving.

the ever-prompt and informative

korean public transportation system 

with the flashing screen 

in multi-languages 

informed me

this ride would take approximately 

54 minutes.

and i realized...

i'd stayed too long at the airport.

and i was going to miss my 5:00 pm [17:00] train,

bound for my Korean home.

but as luck would have it.

i stepped onto the KTX train

car number 12.

seat 14D

at 4:59.and a half...

just as the doors were closing.

just having sprinted up four levels of escaladers.

from the very deepest depths of the world

of seoul subway systems,

my breath was heavy 

as i approached my seat, 

"아줌마..??" 

adjumma...

i addressed the older woman who would be 

my seat-mate for the ride.

she smiled kindly and stood to move

so i could slide between her 

and the window

into 14D.

and just like that, we pulled away.

we were moving.

the Korean country side

blurred in and out of my distracted attention.

i tried to read.

i tried to listen to a "this American life" episode.

my seat-mate slowly and methodically read

her newspaper.

without warning.

a few tears settled themselves into my eyes.

and they would not be blinked back.

my face.

it was turned from her [my seat-mate],

out the window

to the rolling rice patties

perfect in their twists 

and playful, deliberate turns.

the next thing i knew.

my seat-mate adjumma

was offering me half the package

of her snack,

dried squid.

with a little wet-wipe even

for my assumedly dirty hands.

she wouldn't even look at me

as i fumbled through my feeble polite-Korean 

language attempts.

she pushed the squid into

my hands with serious force.

her face barely hinted at a smile.

her act was done out of necessity.

not for her.

but for me.

how could she tell?

was it the few measly sniffles

that made their escape from my tight throat

into the wide wide world?

or was it something about her mother's heart,

that just knew?

i hate dried squid.

but this one.

went down brilliantly.

and i never tasted something so sweet.

and just like that...

we kept moving.