When The Wheels Touched Down

Yesterday was filled with all sorts of end-of-trip processes: packing, getting to the airport, checking in, navigating airport politics, getting through customs, waiting for our flight, being nervous as usual about flying, enduring a long flight, and navigating new airport politics all over again. These processes kept my mind far from the emotions that I know I had about this trip coming to an end. After an extremely uncomfortable, warm, and sleepless 10+ hour flight, I was exhausted, crabby, dehydrated, and in pain. As we finally boarded our Delta flight from San Francisco to Minneapolis, I was able to sleep some although it was restless and I was annoyed and frustrated because I couldnt get comfortable and the flight attendants on this plane were not particularly sensitive if your feet were sticking out in the aisle with their beverage cart.

In a state of being half awake, extremely crabby, and still in pain, I looked out the window to see Minnesota. In all of it's greenness, meandering rivers and small lakes and ponds scattering the land, I was happy to be home. In Korea I had not wanted to leave. I could not imagine my life back in Minnesota again. And even being back home now, it still feels quite different - strange really. I know I havent gotten back into my routine of work and play, but even so, that still seems quite far away. Sitting in my apartment, I can still feel, see, and hear Korea. I'm still dodging all the people, cars, and scooters in the alleys. I'm still smelling the street food with the goodness sometimes overtaken by the pungent smell of squid or octopus. I'm still in Myeong Dong or Namdaemun shopping, haggling, and trying my best to communicate what I want with vendors that speak very little English if any at all. I'm still on the subway system exploring other areas of Seoul and feeling the welcoming cool air inside the train. I'm still walking endlessly up and down so many stairs and through so many underground shopping centers. I'm still feeling the heat and heaviness of the air. My clothes still feel damp with sweat and humidity. I'm still standing in the sea on Jeju feeling the water tug at me, begging me, willing me to stay. I'm still tasting all of the authentic Korean food I was able to indulge in. I'm still on that golf course in Gyeoung-ju hoping I dont come across any snakes. I'm still with the friends I made and was fortunate enough to be able to spend this incredible journey with. I'm still tasting the fried chicken and enjoying the sounds of the outdoor concert on Jeju. And I'm still at the orphanage continuing to acquaint myself today with myself from 32 years ago. I will always be a part of Korea and Korea will always be a part of me in so much more of a salient way than ever before.

Yesterday, while being extremely happy to be back in Minnesota, as the wheels touched down at Minneapolis International, I was overcome by such a wave of sadness that it took every ounce of energy I didnt even know I had left to not break down. The sudden jolt of the plane as the wheels made contact with the runway was the jolt back into my Minnesota reality and an obvious end to this trip. I was no longer in Korea, I was no longer flying back. I was home. On the ground. Home. My journey had come to an end. The lump in my throat lingered as I sealed off the experience into a nice container that I will always hold so close to my heart - all the memories, the meaning and significance, the love, and the connection. I feel more whole and complete now knowing that I left a good chunk of me in Korea. Someday I'll be back to meet up again.