Category Archives: Writing

Respite – Day 4

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There is nothing sexy about the lips pressed to her throat. Nothing quite terrifying either. The mouth opens and teeth come down hard on the skin. There is a pinching sensation as the skin is broken, and then immediately it is gone. She doesn’t necessarily feel it as her blood begins to flow out, but feels the chill. She feels the sensation of cold spreading down from her neck, thru her body, and out to her extremities. She feels her pulse under her skin, begin to slow. She feels her body begin go grow numb, as she becomes frozen. Now forever frozen as she is…

Morning comes. I stare at the face staring back at me in the mirror. Reluctantly, I concede no amount of makeup will be able to hide the bags and dark circles under my eyes. I sniffle, feel a throb in my head, and sweep some foundation under my eyes anyway.

The weekend wasn’t exactly the respite I’d hoped for. The constant pain in my neck and shoulders has only gotten worse. And the fatigue is more apparent on my face than ever. I finally look my age. I feel much older.

It was a kick in the pants though. I awkwardly sat in the hall, not sure where to be, listening as the mother sobbed. Giving in to emotion and letting the tears flow freely. “Its just not fair,” she cried. And it was true. I believe that sometimes bad things happen for good reasons, but where was the good in this? This woman who had two beautiful children, a job she loved, an adoring family, and the full love and support of peers, taken unexpectedly.

She was only a year older than me.

It made me realize that at some point I simply became frozen. I stopped living my life, I simply began sliding by. I stopped living with energy and enthusiasm. I stopped dreaming. I stopped writing. I stopped living.

I had promised myself that I would have a better year than the dreaded 30th year. And yet, I’ve done nothing. If my time came, what would I be leaving behind? One of my greatest fears, is simply to fade away and be forgotten. I think somehow it always has been. From very early on, finally learning how to spell and write my name, and carving my initial into every clean surface. Deep chizeled R still visible on the surface of my parent’s solid oak dining table. What am I doing to make my existence count for something? What am I doing to make a mark on the world that runs deeper than pen scratches in wood? 

How do you pick up the threads of your life you’ve let spool around your feet? How do you untangle the fear, and the loneliness, and the defeat? How do you sort out the love, and the courage, and the strength to move forward? How do you find the drive, the passion, the fire?

…One thread at a time…

Respite – Day 3

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11/06/17 08:30

“She just passed.”

What do you say? What do you say to the family who just lost their 32 year old daughter, sister, mother, and wife?

For someone who works in words, I don’t know what to say. I never quite do, because I am feeling so much more than a simple, “I’m sorry,” can ever convey.

The moment I heard my name called to room 104 over the radio. I strolled in casually. “He’s gone,” the nurse informs quietly. His wife lets out a sob and falls into my arms. They had waited for me. My resident had passed, and the first thing his wife had said was, “Where’s Rose?” I didn’t know what to say. Simply stood there holding her as she sobbed.

The morning is fractured, with tears and fatigue, and eventually some confusion. Everyone says their final goodbyes then retreats to their respective beds. Perhaps they’ll sleep. Perhaps they’ll dream. Perhaps they won’t see her in their dreams.

And when they wake, we gather for dinner. “A celebration of life gathering,” I clarify, when asked what the party was for. And for the time, we reminisce, and smile, and even laugh. People brought together under unfortunate circumstances, but for the better. She brought us all together, from the far corners of the states.

I held her as she sobbed, taking comfort in my presence. I had made a difference in her husband’s life. A man who once was against females taking care of him, eventually prefering my care over anyone elses. I didn’t need to say anything in this moment. I was simply there for her, the way I’d been there for her husband, to the end.

The evening is bittersweet, with blissful laughter and emotional fatigue, and eventually some confusion. Everyone says their final goodbyes then retreats to their respective beds. Perhaps they’ll sleep. Perhaps they’ll dream. Perhaps they’ll see her smiling in their dreams.

I give the family who just celebrated the life of their 32 year old daughter, sister, mother, and wife, a hug, and I tell them, “good night.”

Respite – Day 2.5

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The floor was quiet, not in an eerie way, but in a respectful way. Her room was dark and somber, we waited in the hall. They showed us the room, set aside, where it would be happening. The extent to which the staff had gone to to help see this happen. Her father tells us how the day had been going, successful surgery, but tests revealed more bad news. The worst. The cancer had begun truly showing its aggressive side, and this time… they were out of options. 

“Two things,” he quietly informs us, “she only wanted two things. For her kids and sister to get here… and to get married.”

We enter her room, and the look on her face is fairly blank at first. But she is handed her glasses and recognition dons on her. My mom goes to her for a hug and her face crumples into tears, “thank you for being here,” she whispers around her oxygen. My mom hugs her, and a slight smile comes to her face as she states, “I’m getting married today.” My mom tells her she loves her, and she tells my mom she loves her back. When she steps away, I realize I am next. She looks small and frail to me, and I’m not sure I can hug her. I do anyway. She whispers to me, “take care of my sister,” and I tell her, “of course.” And then she holds onto me. She holds onto me like a lost child looking for the way home. And all I can do is hold onto her back, until she lets go of me. I hold my breath and pour as much strength and calm towards her as I can. And then she lets go.

The staff had brought in a wedding dress and tux. They’d even found clothes for the children. They’d baked cake and provided cookies and refreshments. They were going to make sure this was as fabulous as possible. The crowd of people who showed up, was awe inspiring alone. To feel the weight of the world’s unfairness upon you, to see this room full of people who love and support you. These people who dropped everything to celebrate your life and this moment with you. The room was full of tears, tears of sadness, and tears of joy. 

The groom played, Baby I Love Your Way, as her father wheeled her down the hall. She wore an off the shoulders gown and a boho style headband. The groom took her hand as my mother officiated. Inside the room was crowded with family and friends. Outside the room were dozens of staff members. Both parents, her two children, and her sister all gave her away. And in the end, the groom took her face and kissed her gently on the mouth, then on the forehead. She was married.

She was finally married and she was surrounded by family and friends. Her parents let the cheer of the moment wash over them. It was a bittersweet moment. Their eldest daughter was finally married. A final wish granted. And now she could sleep peacefully.

“Are you ready to go back?” My mother whispers to her, after five minutes of her sitting with her eyes closed. 

“No way,” she responds. 

“Isn’t it a little weird, all of us standing around staring at you?” My mother whispers. 

“That is because, I am the queen.” And for tonight, and maybe forever, she was..

Respite – Day 2

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Childhoods end…

Every year, we would pack up for the weekend. We would drive for miles Out the Road. I’m sure the road had a proper name, but to us, it was simply Out the Road. Thru the trees and along the beachy coastline. Too often, I’d fall asleep, just wanting to be there. When I’d open my eyes, we’d be pulling into the parkinglot facing the small inlet. Other families unloading their bags and packing them onto the small cart. This was it, the beginning of the long journey by foot, along the beach, around the wide corner, and to the camp site..

Respite, day 2. Or maybe not. There is no real rest to be had here. But it is not me who is the unlucky one. Perhaps I am actually fortunate, to be here, at this time…

We were a group of families that showed us kids love. We were a group of kids, all adopted. We were a group of kids who were invincible. In hindsight, my childhood was probably pretty idealic. We all grew up in a bubble of safety and ease. And maybe to some extent, I accidentally left my soul back there. Back where it was all safe and easy. Because I can’t make sense of this. These things don’t happen to us. We don’t die of drug overdoses. We don’t get rare forms of aggressive cancer. We have kids, and husbands, and lives. We are only in our 30s for Gods sake.

I woke up this morning, to a snow covered dreamy landscape. Coffee was brought to me, and all the fur babies were nestled into my covers. It wasn’t long before I realized I was actually in a horrible reality. My childhood friend, one of the crew, one of Us, was dying.. 

“We don’t know how long she has. She wants to be married tonight. Please come…”

The snow is melting and our coffee grows cold. Its easy to put on the brave face now, but I don’t know what will happen later. I’ve had my share of death before. Family members passing, patients at the hospital passing… but this is different. This is not right. And I’m a little bit scared..

This weekend we all packed our bags. We made the long drive to the ferry terminal. Along a road whos name I don’t know. Some, coming from even further. Thru the trees and to the sea. I fall asleep, not sure what we will be arriving to. When I open my eyes, we pull into the small terminal facing the sea. Other cars fill the lot as we wait. This is it, the beginning of something that will change us all forever, something cruel and unfair, but undeniable..

And when she goes, alone, we will be a group of families that show each other nothing but love..

Respite – Day 1

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You’ll know you’ve fallen in love when you no longer want to sleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams…

I slept. I slept. I slept til afternoon. And I dreamt. One tiny Trazodone to help me sleep, one tiny doorway into the world of dreams. And in my dreams, my heart was breaking. A love I’ve clung onto, was falling in love with someone else. By mistake, I was late, or took a wrong turn, or some other random chance, and saw her climb out his window. And with a blush, and a sigh, I knew she was falling in love with him too…

I claw my way out of slumber, like demons climbing out of hell. It is light out and the digital clock on the nightstand taunts my unseeing eyes. I hear the sounds of cooking from somewhere downstairs, and the deep rumble of my displeased cat. I put my glasses on and am surprised to find its noon. I’d slept for 12 hrs straight. The cats both emerge from their hiding places, and follow me into the bathroom..

The day is cold, wintery, and with the leisure beholden a Saturday, we drive down into town for coffee. We drive past the other coffee shops til we reach the end, a special coffee shop. The coffee shop with a How-To juggling book on its shelf. The coffee shop that is a cross between casual and serious. (Casual cat t-shirts and flannel. Serious weigh each shot of esspresso for perfection in a cup.) The coffee shop that drew a penis in my cappuccino foam years ago for a laugh. Nothing like a Cockoccino to start your day..

I sometimes forget how much I like this perfect little dream town. Coffee shops where you can make your baristas blush. Bookstores where clerks know the exact location of the book you want. Theaters that show real movies, not just the Hollywood stuff. And the sea..

I bite into a yellow apple and can’t recall the last time I’ve just eaten an apple. Each bite, juicy and dreamy. I meet a cat with two odd back legs. Living a difficult life, but living it none the less. He pulls his back legs behind him as he crosses the store to greet us. No less life in him, no less drive, despite his handicap. An old man tells me a story about spliced apple trees and magical bites. A distant time, a mystery apple. “Happy bedding…” he says, as we depart.

We return home, only hrs later. My head is foggy and I still feel the pull of sleep. I ascend the stairs, and let slumber take me..

Respite – Day 0.5

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You know you need a Snickers… when you start arguing with the GPS…

The drive is long, longer than its been before. What starts out as a lovely drive past the fields of sheep as the sun goes down, soon turns into a shouting match with the GPS woman. “Quit telling me what to do, I get it!” The night’s darkness closes me in like tunnel vision and I just drive, in hopes I reach my destination. Both cats, once adorably cuddled on my lap, now add to the growing discomfort. One tiny, bony elbow jabbing into my forearm, and the circulation slowly being cut off from my driving foot. Hashtag: Thank God for Cruise. 

I reflect on the eerie quietness of the back seat, hoping to goodness the tortoises are still alive. A flash of a memory crosses my mind. Looking into the tank of my college days pets, to find one hermit crab embracing the other. And as I drew closer, to my horror, finding it was actually eating the other, wrapped around it, one claw shoveling brain matter into its greedy maw, like movie goers shoveling popcorn into their mouths… I dare not turn around, and trust my tortoises aren’t that hungry… Oh God, must drive faster…

I occupy my brain with the qued up episodes of the podcast Lore. Lulled by the conversational, slightly monotonous tone of the host. Each short episode exciting me more. Where does one find a guy like this? Hes definitely my kind of geek. His subject matter ranging from ghost stories, to serial killers, to witches, to Irish folktales, told from the perspective of a storyteller. I love it. I get it. I’m hooked…

Until my GPS rudely interrupts his lovely, lulling words, to tell me to keep going on this route…

I feel like I’m stuck in a wormhole. Balancing between pain and pleasure. My eyes want to dip, maybe from monotony, maybe from fatigue, maybe from the steady onslaught of oncoming headlights… but my body is still alive. And there’s miles to go before I sleep…

The drive was long, longer than its been before. But in the end, I made it.

…when the night begins to win over the day. when the air begins to grasp at your skin. when the trees start to turn, growing gold, then crimson, as if infected. then drop their leaves as if seeking to blanket the Earth, keep her warm, keep her safe. safe from the ghosts that slowly drift in the dew light, from the shadows that yawn and stretch in the twilight…

Columbus

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I’ve started going to movies by myself. My taste in movies doesn’t always align with my peers. Case and point, every solo movie I attend, I find myself hunkered down in my seat, surrounded by grey haired viewers.
Tonight, I park on the otherside of the market square, bypassing the friday night festivities as I walk. Hispanic music coming from some corner. The theater is expensive, small, and surprisingly crowded. I buy a strong beer and find a seat to the side. This is my favorite experience, surrounded by a respectful crowd, sipping cold beer, and watching a film that is simply a story. 
And when the first name appears as the credits roll, the room is filled with soft music, and we all just take a breath. No one claps, no one gets up, we all just sit for a minute to absorb. This is my favorite experience, when someone tells you an story about life, no explosions, no special effects, just acting, and writing, and in the end, your heart’s responds..
When I step out of the theater it is full dark, and thru the hispanic music I can still year the crickets chirping. The air is warm and I quickly walk thru the night stalls, smiling politely at the vendors who call me Pretty and try to sell me things. The alley ways are dark and I pick up my pace as I cross the square to my car, hopeful to avoid attention.
I see my car in the distance, not the strong beast of my last jeep, but still my chariot back to my life. Away from the music, and the dancing, and the few hours I allow myself reprieve from my own life. I head back home.

I am who I am

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This last year has been bad, the worst. I entered my third decade of life and I’ve hated every minute of it. I have never been faced with so many challenges to my life and personal identity. I’ve never questioned my own self so much, and felt as though I’d lost so much along the way. I’m 30 and I feel like I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I’m 30 and I’ve never felt so lonely. But the truth in my heart, is I am who I am. Long ago I came to terms with the fact that I’m not cookie cutter. I do things my own way. And that not everybody is going to accept that, and that’s okay. I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to make others happy, that I’m not happy myself. And I’ve let people make me feel ashamed of myself. March to the beat of my own drum? The truth is, I don’t hear a drum. I bask in the sound of my own silence. And I like it. And I’m going to be okay. I’m going to have more bad years, and I’m going to have great years. In two days, my year from hell will be over, and I survived it. Today, while waiting for my coffee, late in the morning, the woman behind the counter looked at me, and told me she was proud of me. And that was all I needed. In two days, I’m going to turn 31, and I’m going to have the best year..

Hiatus – Day Last

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Thoughts of a 30 year old..

I used to laugh at people who made the transition from age 29 to age 30. What were they so afraid of? It’s just another year, there’s going to be plenty more. But now that I’ve turned 30, I repeatedly blink my eyes in hopes I’ll wake up and find I’m 29 again and this year never happened. I didn’t go thru all the stress and pain I went thru, I didn’t gain 15 pounds I can’t seem to shake, I didn’t nearly lose one of my parents, we didn’t elect Donald Trump as POTUS… But alas, here I am, 30, and here are my thoughts:

My body: They always told me I’d lose my metabolism by age 30. Having been someone who always ate whatever I wanted and never had to worry about a thing, it is actually quite devastating to find this permanent spare tire around my middle. No one wants to feel less than they are. But the lesson to learn here, is that you don’t have to keep trying to be more than you are. No one has ever complained, mocked, or had a problem with my imperfections. I’m no longer in my 20s and if I’m hanging out with someone who laughs at my chub, maybe I need to be rethinking the people I am hanging out with. Or I need to laugh louder about their bigger chub.

I can no longer eat extrordinarily spicy food without my stomach protesting later. And I find myself saying, “what?” far more than I ever have. I used to jokingly tell my parents that it was simply because they are old, well now it would seem the jokes on me. Our bodies truly do seem to go thru all those horrible changes as we get “older.”

My money: For the first time in my life, it is tight. I am at this strange point in my life where I am making enough to survive, but that’s all. Living alone is pretty damned expensive, and people looking for roommates are looking for college students in their 20s. So what do I do? How do I live? Carefully. For the first time in my life I understand the value of working hard, and the need to think about how I’m spending my money, and the reward in being able to treat yourself to something nice.

I used to chalk it all up to career choice. I simply didn’t make the right choices when I was in college. But the truth is, those things don’t matter as much now. 3 years of experience is equivalent to a 4 year degree in most places. If your 4 year degree is the same as your 3 years of experience, then you can’t say you made a wrong choice. You are doing what you want to be doing. I am doing what I want to be doing. It isn’t glamorous, or exciting, and it doesn’t necessarily pay well. But it is what I am good at, damned good at, and it is what makes me smile.

My family: In turning 30, I reached the cut off point to sell my eggs. Sounds strange, why would I care? Do I even want to sell my eggs? Not necessarily. But knowing a piece of you has reached its expiration date just makes you feel old period. How did I miss the step at which people have kids? The truth is, I didn’t. I chose not to hike up the mountain along the beaten track. I chose to claw, fight, and drag myself up the hard way, and if it put me on a slower path, then it put me on a slower path. I am not at a point in which I am ready for children. My own parents didn’t have my brother and I until they were in their mid thirties and there was nothing wrong with that. They lived their lives first, found each other and truly fell in love, and had kids when they were really ready for them.

As far as falling in love? I’ve felt love for someone else a couple of times. But I’ve never met someone I could see myself with for the rest of my life. Does that make me broken? I’m coming to terms with the fact that I Am A Virgo. I am thought full, particular, stubborn, and wont act unless I am sure of myself. I haven’t met my special person. I am not sad for it. I am in love with my own independence.

My future: When I turned 30, I had a midlife crisis. I lost people I cared about, and at some point, hit a bottom that created an outward ripple. I lost myself. I wasn’t in my 20s anymore and I wasn’t sure what to do. It was a long journey to try to rediscover myself. And the truth is, I’m no one different. I did not magically wake up and find I was an adult. The truth is, I’ll never be an adult, in that sense. I will always need my parent’s help and approval on the serious things. Maybe there is an added expectation on me, to be responsible and a role model and have experience. But I can only be me. Everyone has their own journey to go thru. It was my errs and experiences that made me who I am. I am finally old enough to look back and see that. I am not apologetic for being who I am. 

I am a Korean-American woman, I don’t know who my birth mother is, but I know who my parents are, an American woman and an English man. I grew up in small town Alaska and got my degree in Idaho, but spent most of my college years in Oregon. I have two cats and two tortoises. I like icecream, and I like beer, and I love icecream in my beer. I play videogames, speak fluent sarcasm, and watch documentaries for fun. I hide myself deep inside the enigma, buried in the pages of an open book. I am who I am, and I am not apologetic. I am me. I am 30, and in a month, I’ll be 31.

Hiatus – Vacation from Vacation – Fin 2.0

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From the Otherside..

It was like being ferried across the river Styx, only we had a cafeteria. Getting thru customs was a breeze, they even had a drug sniffing dog for oir entertainment while we waited to get thru the line.

I contemplate the trip and realize I didn’t do very well. 1 for 3. 

I did manage to spot a few Canadian geese.

I did not ever encounter this supposed “Canadian bacon” and still maintain it’s an American Pizza company conspiracy just to sell us ham.

And, as far as I know, I never crossed paths with Nathan Fillion. I’m sure I would have felt the undeniable magic in the air if I had…

Alas, the conclusion I draw from all of this, is that clearly, I will need to go back.

Until next time Victoria!

Hiatus – Vacation from Vacation – Fin

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The Return..

We took our time waking up. We dressed, and packed. Nothing opened until 10 anyway. We watched the market brush the sleep out of its eyes. We drank coffee, and ate french pastries. I gave a man my napkin, and the barista made sexy eyes at my Pops. We strolled thru the narrow alleys of Chinatown. We got tacos for lunch. Then headed to the dock to catch our ferry..

Mid afternoon ferry back across the boarder. Doesn’t feel like it’s been a full weekend, but somehow it has. The sun is shining, the water is calm, and today I see just how much I’ve missed. It’s a different sort of culture, for someplace so close to home. If I end up taking anything away from this trip, it is simply to learn to enjoy my time and not take it for granted. If the price we pay for being stressed out, is that ws are a less welcoming country, then it’s not worth hanging onto the stress. It doesn’t make you work any harder and it doesn’t bring you more reward. What a beautiful thing it was, to spend a whole weekend surrounded by smiling, friendly faces. And to be in the presence of complete strangers, who genuinely wish you the best. The simplest thing to pay forward, to genuinely wish someone well. How and when did my country become such a hateful, angry place? I blink my eye and it is gone like a dream, and we are home.

Hiatus – Vacation from Vacation – Fin

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The Return..

Mid afternoon ferry back across the boarder. Doesn’t feel like it’s been a full weekend, but somehow it has. The sun is shining, the water is calm, and today I see just how much I’ve missed. It’s a different sort of culture, for someplace so close to home. If I end up taking anything away from this trip, it is simply to learn to enjoy my time and not take it for granted. If the price we pay for being stressed out, is that ws are a less welcoming country, then it’s not worth hanging onto the stress. It doesn’t make you work any harder and it doesn’t bring you more reward. What a beautiful thing it was, to spend a whole weekend surrounded by smiling, friendly faces. And to be in the presence of complete strangers, who genuinely wish you the best. The simplest thing to pay forward, to genuinely wish someone well. How and when did my country become such a hateful, angry place? I blink my eye and it is gone like a dream, and we are home.

Hiatus – Vacation from Vacation – Day 3

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Some Sunny Sunday..

We park the car in the small lot the woman directed us to, and walk on blind faith down the street. The park seems obvious once you’re in it, but with every step it seemed to expand further out. It was initially empty, a field infront of an outdoor auditorium, and one family eating lunch. But then we saw the path, curling away and leading down, into the thicket. We follow it, breaching the line of trees, and immediately the zig-zagging path falls away below us. We follow, back and forth, and back and forth, down the wooded walkway. We are enclosed in greenery of all shades, 3 different types of trees, and 7 different types of bushes and ground plants. The occassional glimpse of our prize peeking between the branches. The lower we get, the stronger the smell of the sea, until at last, we break back thru the thicket, onto a known secret escape. Before us lays a wide, wooden boardwalk maybe half a mile long, across the edge of the water. Where sprinkled all along the way, down to the very end, are families, drinking beers, eating lunch, and crabbing.

We drove along the West coast of Vancouver Island, completing the wingspan of Victoria. The road was whindy, reminding me of driving Out the Road in Juneau, the teal blue of the ocean just thru a thin layer of trees to our left, but instead of tall mountainside to our right, we see large homes to our right, looking out over the road to the water.

We return from our adventure just before 5. Though it be a Sunday, I find myself frustrated by the town. Nothing opening before 10AM, and everything closing by 6PM. How does anyone get anything done? But then I started thinking, maybe that’s it. Maybe that is why the atmosphere is so different here in B.C. than in America. No one is stressed out, or angry, or rude. Everyone is so cheerful, and friendly, and so eager to just… chat with you. Maybe letting people sleep in and have time to drink coffee and eat breakfast before going to work alleviates some of the stress of the day. Maybe closing and letting people go home at 6, not worrying about people working too long or needing coverage past 8 hrs of work alleviates some of the anger people feel. In fact… in short, it actually seems genius. The only person I’ve seen running to the Starbucks, was the guy who was finishing his morning run. And the fact that it took almost 5 full minutes to then get our drinks after we’d ordered them, at first jarred me, Starbucks doesn’t make people wait… but then it just didn’t matter. The girls making our drinks were smiling and laughing the whole time. That’s what work should be about…

In the end, we found our English Pub. With its low, wooden ceilings, heavy wooden chairs, and friendly waitstaff. It wasn’t crowded, and two men in the front performed live music. The pub was doing a Sunday dinner special, but it was lovely Bangers and Mash, and a nice tall glass of Extra Special Bitter for us. A nice last night of our Vacation.