Last spring when the scent of lilacs followed me from the backyard into my kitchen, I thought of my mother’s distant cousin and her daughters, who, like my lilacs, visited yearly when the earth warmed and the days grew longer. I pictured us all in idyllic memories of jump rope games and playing with dolls. But, except for MaryAnn, the littlest daughter, I could not remember their names.
A few years ago, I could have called my mother. She would have teased me for my forgetfulness, asked what I was making for dinner (there was never a phone conversation where we didn’t talk about food) and repeated her mother-to-daughter mantra, “When are you coming over?” We would have shared stories of those long-ago days before hanging-up and re-joining our lives. But my mother has passed on and while the images of our family lingers-the details are lost. I write One more thing before I go, my living record for my son, in hope that one day, when he has a question I can no longer answer, it can be found in this blog.
The Koreanization of me began with a bit of longing, a feeling of deja vu, and a minor miracle.
After I became a teacher, I thought the place I was would be the place I’d be forever. Happily, I was wrong. I was about to step onto another path; one that would lead me to worlds I’d neither planned for nor dreamed of.
Read MoreMy mother and I were Olympic-grade shoppers. Soon after I took my first steps on my own, she deemed me her shopping buddy and took me to every department store reachable by bus or subway. It was her happy place.
Read MoreThere’re a million old love songs about meeting the perfect person; across a crowded room, on Blueberry Hill, down at Palisades Park. Meeting a friend has the same magical randomness. You miss a train at the same time, seated next to each other at a wedding (baby shower, charity event, professional development meeting) or stranded in a stalled elevator and find yourself with someone who makes you feel good. Now that I think of it—friendship is an affair that might last longer than a love story. After all, whoever left a friend because they found a prettier one? All this is a very long lead-in to how I met my friend Hala: She walked into my house on Christmas Eve.
Read MoreI’m the author of Bird and Fish, its sequel; Sea and Sky and my latest novel; Alice Again. I wasn’t always a writer. I started out much the same as other women; moving along from baby to girl, woman to wife and mother, teacher to restless. Restless is the best ally a writer can have. It made me leave a super career with a steady pay-check to settle into a solitary regimen of breathing life into a handful of ideas. I’ve never been happier.
