midwest bound

last night
after days without
horizontal sleep,
countless delays,
hours of tarmac waiting,
enough dashing through

airports
to quench any marathon runner...


i had finally made it.
to the very 
last leg of my 
return 
home journey.


breathless and sweat-full
my terminal sprinting
ended as i deflated
in front of the final
gate.
chicago to minneapolis.


the airline worker
looked over her glasses at me,
pitifully.


"you missed it" she said.


"but isn't that the plane?"
i ask.

{some ultimatums
must be questioned.}

"and besides, it's 7:58 and the
plane doesn't take off for
another 6 minutes."


the airline worker's eyes
locked with mine.


{the starring over the glasses
was beginning
to get old.}


she agreed to check
if the gate was open.


it was.


i'd made it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
traveling.

such a gift.
the chance to leave what is
here.
and go.
just go.
to see and explore and wonder
and test and search and marvel.


there is nothing quite like it.
especially
when you know
precisely
what home is like.
what you've missed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


sneaking onto the aircraft
not a moment too late,
i approached cautiously.


the plane was
of course
full of eager travelers,
who had been on time.
who were waiting.
ready to get on with their journeys.



the situation had potential to be
intimidating.



the stares.
the glares.
because after all.
being THE ONE.
THE ONE
the late one.
the holding-up-the-plane one.
the your-tardiness-is-foiling-my-connection one.
never a good
position.


but.
intimidating and scornful
looks did not greet me.
only smiles,
nods of approval,
and congratulatory
last minute plane-catching
compliments
were doled my way
as i,
still short of breath,
found my way down the aisle.


and when seat 26A was
doubled booked
and i had no where to sit,
3 rows in all directions
of concerned travelers 
found another seat for me.
all before
a flight attendent even 
knew there was an issue.


the midwest
truly welcomed me home.


and while
even though it felt
like my time traveling was
too short
and it was hard to leave.
to say goodbye.


it's good to be back.


as for last night.
dear United 959 plane-mates,
thanks for the 
warm welcome.
home.




- n.


ps 
stay tuned for 
tales of the past weeks.
of meeting
christmas-ing
traveling
new years-ing
tappas-ing
and sunning.
with sister & parents
and a bunch of Oxford MBAs.

one. then two. then twenty.

one.
then two.
then five.
then twenty.
and then one hundred thousand.
all
falling
together.


and hours later.
our world is....


sweaters.
tugged in tighter.
warm beverages 
cupped between thankful
hands.
cozy-ers cozy in to their
someone closer.


and the candles lite hold 
the color
of our glowing, flickering existence.


and hours later.
our world is....


have i ever seen this 
brillance of new 
before?
every time i ask myself.


my collection of memories seem
to encourage me that...
yes.
in fact i know this.


but the shimmer. 
gentle gracing.
resting.
delighting.
being.


all. it all is new.
every time.
new again.


and hours later.
our world is 
completely changed....

covered.
.....in snow.




it's the best, right?






- n.

find your feet.

it might not feel normal

to be discussing new year 

dreams and resolutions 

in the orangey middle of

october.

so please if you can offer a bit

of forgiveness to this soul...

because i am....

that is, dwelling on 

some particular thoughts and hopes

i held a mere ten months

ago.

one of which was to sit on a 

beach

{in Thailand}

with my feet dug into the sand

feeling the cold tingling 

smoothness

only the insides of beaches

can offer.

to sit on this beach

all day.

to watch sunrise

and sunset.

that was my promise to myself.

the purpose?

to be still and watch the world's

movement.

for just one day.

to appreciate the cycle.

to lay on my back

and if i was very quiet 
and still,

to see  if i could feel

the world's turning.

maybe it's a silly idea.

but then...

it seemed important.

a gift i would give myself.

but here ten months later

instead of standing on the 

beaches of Thailand,

i found myself instead meandering 

amongst the rocks

of the North Shore.

and while there was

no tingling and coolness of the sand,

the earth was still doing its thing.

the sun still greeting and giving.

the moon still brightening and beckoning.

i couldn't help wondering 

about that promise i made to myself

more than 300 days past.

sometimes choices are made that

change all foreseen plans.

sometimes choices are made that

usurp the life you knew.

but when the dust settles if you look

down

you will find your feet.

your trusty feet.

who have carried you

faithfully this far

and won't abandon you yet.

even if you find yourself

standing someplace

you would 

have never imagined.

so just stand on them.

and wait.

the sun will come.

the world will turn.

and the moon with keep you

company.

wherever you find yourself.
whether in Thailand
the North Shore
the office
or the living room.
here's to standing.




- n.

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.

meanwhile the world goes on.

i was reminded.
this morning by talking to a friend
of an important, yet simple truth of life.

this friend is a gallant woman.
she faces the world with grace.
and eagerness.
desiring to learn and breath it all in.
her artistic and creative being 
is unassuming and inquisitive.

and my friend, she has had
her share of heartache and pain.
so deep and penetrating
she has wondered where the light is ---

the past few weeks, we have exchanged
the hilarity of emails about 
dreams and future,
men and crushes, 
wondering how an old soul
can live properly in all one's 
22-ness.

yet this winter. for me.
time has passed.
slowly.
with its share of loneliness and soul-ache
i did not know why i was here
and i have wondered where the light was ---


but today, i was reminded.
of this one simple truth.
that is easy to forget.


life.
it goes on.
it always does.

as the weepies,
the beetles,
and mary oliver
have penned so truthfully and dynamically,

our lives.
they spin on.

pain is real.
heartache torments us.
we wonder if the morning will ever come.


yet everyday the sun rises. 
and the moon greets the dusk.
spinning. spinning. spinning.
and we, whether we realize it or not...
we are always moving.


i am reminded how my life is one
note in the great melody that stirs the earth.


i am moving.
and i am many.

early spring.

late summer.

sometimes

the road

looks different.

early spring.

summer.

"meanwhile the world turns on."