I'm on vacation! Taking a much-needed break. But don't worry. While I'm away, I've enlisted some great guest bloggers to keep things going around here. Here's Joy Osmanski writing about a recent trip to Korea.
When I went to Korea, I felt like a Clydesdale.
The Clydesdale is a draft horse originating, predictably, in Clydesdale, Scotland. Okay, it's the Budweiser horse. Huge. Clomping. Snorting horse heads. They pull things.
I stepped into the belly of the Korean Air 747, and stopped blinking. The flight attendants, hair smoothed into low coils, sea foam scarves winging from perfect knots, lips in tiny, pacific smiles... my brain ached. I'd been awarded a gratis trip to the motherland sponsored by the Korean government and a Korean adoptee organization. The last time I'd been in a Korean Air plane, I was seven months old and alarmingly chubby. The flight took 17 hours and I was awarded the nickname "Monsoon." Apparently, I cried. A lot. I was delivered to a mother who knew me only from a photo, from the paperwork, and the dutiful reports written up by the adoption agency.
Decades later, after pegging my jeans, suffering through spiral perms, listening to Pearl Jam on constant loop, wading through college in Midwestern cornfields, getting my MRS degree in Boston, getting my MFA in San Diego, getting divorced in Los Angeles, and always explaining my Polish last name, I sat, holding my breath, on a flight bound for my country of origin. The country to which I felt only the thinnest thread of connection.