Trusting Skeletons

I searched the night sky for the yellow sliver of the moon, but the sky was lonely. Lit up with the orange glow of city lights that rimmed the blackness and when I looked closer at the tiny little speck I thought was a star, I noticed it blinking and edging it's way across the blanket of black. I miss the stars. I walk in the alleys because I feel safer there, in the shadows, away from the motorcycles and the traffic. I'm not afraid in the dark places in Korea like I'm afraid when I'm home. I've been thinking a lot about why I'm here, what pulls me to travel and to live in foreign countries, especially when most of the time it's not easy. Here's what I came up with. Living in a foreign country is like removing all my skin, so all that's left is my skeleton, bare and fragile. I look at it in the mirror in the morning, I glimpse it in my reflection as I walk past store fronts. It's missing some bones. There are holes and my clavicle isn...

I feel overwhelmed. A little lost. I feel like I'm on a roller coaster ride that finally has an end in sight, but I'm not sure I want to get off. I've been falling in love with Korea, forging a familiar island in a sea of unfamiliar. I've been making more of an effort to learn the language and spend time with friends and I'm starting to wonder if I'm ready to go home. I'm counting my triumphs, however small they might appear: finally learning how to say "bathroom" or "I don't understand," dodging motorcycles, spending all night talking to a friend only to find myself walking home as fresh snow began to fall and the early morning light made it sparkle like glitter, admitting to my friends how lonely I've felt lately and feeling their supportive hugs, being told I look like I'm 25 by the handsome and muscly guy at my gym, and all of the moments my students say a complete sentence in English, knowing that I taught them that. My w...