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Leaving Day, 1972

I come from a big family. You wouldn’t know it though because we were so alone on 107th between Broadway and Amsterdam.

Look at these people with my face. I long for them. The guy with glasses holding me is my uncle, one of my dad's older brothers (I think he had at least three older siblings).

As an only child, I quickly learned how to be by myself, and for myself. I read a lot and made paper dolls. Ate too many crackers and cheese from a can.

But I learned that if I could make friends, then I wouldn't be so alone.

But I lost an entire family when we left Korea. We were stranded on 107th Street all those years, me, my mother and father and then my aunt (my mom's older sister by seven years) who came in 1980.

Though my dad died in 2006, my mom and aunt have only been gone two years. But these are just numbers. What do they mean?

Okay, maybe that I am so far away from where I started and cannot get back to there.

But really, it's just that my brain doesn't know how to process and so allows the liver to take over.

Such a rookie move.


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