Leaving home

Today it was Chuky I said goodbye to, a wonderful, generous friend I met through this very blog, actually. And then it was Hyejong, my work colleague with whom I did the What Color is my Parachute exercises last year (not that it did any good). And then it was my cousins and aunt.

I managed to say a few words in Korean to my family members, about how I had realized the importance of family during my time here, and how glad I was to have gotten to know them. That is certainly one of the best things about having lived here for two years. Even though we don't meet very often, knowing that they're out there, unfailingly good-natured, laidback and generous, has given me a sense of groundedness that is the foundation, I think, to a certain kind of self-confidence and security those without an extended family have a hard time achieving.

Home is the place where they have to let you in, and being related to someone is not a guarantee that you have a home with them. But with each of the people seated around the table in the Chinese restaurant on the 11th floor of Lotte department store in Jamsil -- my dad, of course; the chatty, quick-witted and crowd-pleasing Heejye, my oldest cousin, and his wife and son; the wordless but somehow completely confident Jongeun, the son of my second oldest uncle, in whose eyes I always catch a sly twinkle; my soju-swillin', dog-meat-eatin', loudmouthed and cheerful grandmother; my soft-spoken and dog-loving great-aunt; my garrulous aunt, who is old-style Korean in her brusque yet deeply loving manner -- each of their faces represents a home to me. I hope mine does to them too.