The plane is rolling down the runway. I look at the windows of the air port. I see a man in a red baseball cap and red shirt waving. My mind clicks backward. Hae-in was wearing a red shirt and he had a red baseball cap tucked in his back pocket. I wave furiously even though I know he can’t see me. My vision is blurred by tears. The airport is left behind. The plane races down the run way, and then it takes flight.

The pain in my chest is huge. I feel myself about to break into ragged sobs. I start to count. I start to breathe slow. On another level I begin to repeat the rosary.

We land in Seoul. Soon I will be out of Korea entirely. I make my way to my next flight. I am feeling lost and suddenly angry. Why did I give my heart away? I should have counted the cost. I never felt this bad when I left Jason. Never. Of course we were in the same country. We knew when we would see each other again. Separations were a few weeks at the most, they were never open ended. Never.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

When the plane takes off, I force myself once again to breathe slow. From my purse I take out a pen and my tiny sketch book. I begin to draw. I am drawing a girl on a swing and a young boy pushing her into the sky. I am that girl, Hae-in is that boy. I miss him so much I can barely breathe. Still, as always drawing helps, putting my feelings on paper helps. In time I loose myself in the swirls I am making in the sky and the curls of the wave. When I finish that drawing, I begin another drawing. This time it is of a man and a woman walking together hand in hand. It is sentimental and not very good at all. The ink lines are smeared by the tears that are dropping on the page. I really need to get a hold of myself.

A soft female voice says, “Are you okay?”

I look up. A small woman with silver white hair and kind eyes is looking at me. I tell her, “I just left my boyfriend. We don’t know when we will be able to see each other again.”

She slips into the empty seat beside me. “That is hard. Is he a good man?”

I nod and whisper, “The best.”

She smiles. By her smile I can tell she is a kind soul. She asks me, “How did you meet?”

The story of Hae-in comes rolling out of me. There is comfort in sharing this story and comfort in hearing it out loud in my own words.The woman doesn’t ask any more questions, but she nods and smiles in all the right places.