Part I
I emailed on a whim. I had no intention of even finding out any information. I figured, this is Korea we're talking about. Everything is probably changed, on paper, out of date.
People said, "have you thought about a birth search?"
"What's that?" I asked. "How do you go about starting that?"
So I used what I thought I should use. The Internet. And, voila, there was my love nest orphanage. I never stayed at the orphanage. They only handled my paperwork. But, there they were, in color, in English, in cyberspace, with an email and contact information.
What the heck. Why not? If they find information, cool. If not, cool.
Email 1 - My name is ________, I was adopted in __________ by __________. I am interested in finding information about my birth family in _____________.
RE: Please send us information on your APs and adoption file numbers.
Email 2 - My information is ___________.
RE: We have your halmoni and uncles' family's information. Please send us a letter and we will translate that letter for them. We are attempting to locate your birth mother.
Email 3 - Dear Halmoni...
RE: We have your omoni's information. She is very excited to hear about you and if you send a letter we will translate.
Time from email 1 to email 3 response = 3 weeks.
So much for thinking this was just something to try out. I made the varsity squad on my first at bat.
Part II
So I fly to Korea, blah blah blah. It is a long flight. I have no idea what I'm going to do, where I'm going to stay, or how to even get around in Korea. Good thing my friend TF is there to guide me. Good thing my bro is there to reassure me.
Day 1 Korea - Find hotel. Big ordeal. Sleep. Wake up at 10pm. Drink soju, beer, soju, beer. Eat food. Walk around Seoul. Drink soju. Eat food. Walk around Seoul. Drink beer. Eat food. Eat food. Sleep.
Day 2 Korea - Use PC-bahng to find address (addresses in Korea don't really do much) and directions to hospital / orphanage. Find Quiznos. Eat food. Find man with broken leg. "Excuse me, where is hospital in this area?" He with broken leg and crutches, obviously fresh from hospital. "No idea." Find melon vendor. "How much?" "Good Price" "Kamsahamnida!" Walk around corner from melon vendor. "Hey, isn't that a hospital?" Find orphanage office. Demand omoni information. Go back to hotel. Eat food. Drink beer. Sleep. Find MM who is studying in Seoul at a women's university. Eat food. Drink beer. Find translator. Call omoni through translator. Hire G'OAL (incredible people). Eat food. Drink Beer. Sleep.
Day 3 Korea - Find G'OAL offices. Pay G'OAL member fee. Fill out paperwork. Arrange meeting for omoni. Eat food. Drink beer. Sleep.
Part III
We woke up early and found our way toward the G'OAL office. The streets shimmered with heat, and the early morning flowers in shops dripped with freshly sprayed dew. My stomach, adjusting to the rigors of kimchee and bulgogi, had finally settled and needed filling. We passed a donut shop, but the plastic booths and bright lights sent my appetite away. Too American.
A flower shop was opening, but who buys a Korean woman flowers? Do they do that here? I've brought enough gifts, this will be enough. Besides. I don't even know this woman. What if she doesn't like flowers?
A small, empty, cool restaurant invites me in with symbols I can read. Ne, soondobu. The spicy stew and rice fill us with the courage to press forward in the heat, to meet the shadow of my past. What will she be like? In the pictures she looks strong, young, wide of body, proud smile. In other pictures, she looks lost and despondent in her eyes. I recognize the face of capitulation. She surrendered to her situation, and that is why I am not hers. Why I am someone elses.
The G'OAL office door is open. I knock. Annyong haseyo! "Son Sok! Son Sok!" I freeze. I do not know what to say. I, who always has words, am silent. I am stiff. I want to hit pause, reevaluate. Give myself a few more years. I wasn't ready. I'm not ready. Who is Son Sok?
She runs from the meeting room, powerful strides and grabs me in her arms. She cries my name and holds me tighter than I've ever been held. Ever. She releases me and envelopes my brother with the same warmth and passion. She grabs me again and touches my face. I am hers. For this moment, I am hers.
She is tall, like me, with wide shoulders, strong hands, and good posture. She is short haired, cropped, modern. She is beautiful, and not shy. She is dominating, and not meek. She is ajumma. Do not mess with ajumma.
We talk fast, through a translator, make plans for the day, the week, the future. I never plan, as one can tell from my haphazard journey to Korea. But, now, even today, I must plan. I plan because I have a past.
We leave and, as per usual, we eat. Cold noodle soup. World Famous. Best in Seoul. So I'm told. She walks. Fast, hard, with purpose. Her body glides through people, determined, without pause. I do not know if she's walked like this before, but I fantasize that my presence has given her body new energy, new resolve.
I am sweating by the time we reach the National Cemetery south of the Han. I'm drenched by the time we reach Appa's grave, halfway up the mountain side. I kneel, but do not weep. Omoni weeps enough for us both. She would visit his grave daily. Even after I left for America. Now she is here to tell him to be proud of me. To show him how I've grown up big and strong like he was.
I turn around, and see what Appa sees from his grave every day. I see what I faintly remember having a dream of. Cloudy day, with grey haze covering the city. The blue roofs of old buildings. The sky toward Namsan. The Han river idling by. The roar of modern Seoul shuffling around, unaware that in the mountain side, a son and his mother have found themselves kneeling at the apex of their lives. |
