When we had to part ways, Good Man went in one direction. CH, A, their daughter and I went the other direction. I was the first to get off the subway. I gave A and CH hugs, squeezed their daugher’s hand, stepped off the subway. I thought it would be a bit easier, as I had to transfer, had to depart the subway.
A few steps away, I turned around. Their daughter, seated, was craning her neck to look out the door. A and CH were standing, waving and I knew I was going to start crying. Of course, A and I start tearing up at the same time. I was thinking, Doors, close. Close. This isn’t easy.
These are the people who put me up when I was homeless, who helped me with the Labor Board over my former employer, who gave great advice when Good Man and I were going through hell (not between us, but about us) last year, who’ve helped me study Korean (CH) and who I can call and talk about anything with (A).
And this is the last time I’ll see them in how long?
Nineteen days to my departure and the goodbyes are starting.
My mom says it’s not different than when I had to say goodbye to come here, but she’s absolutely wrong. I knew I’d eventually come back to the States. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back here.