A foxtail

“What did you do during Chuseok?”

I asked a junior colleague.

“I just took the Staten Island ferry back and forth a few times by myself.”

Her lonely answer made my head ache and my heart feel heavy.

When I first came to the U.S., I went to a school near New York City where there were no other Koreans. My English wasn’t good, so it was hard to make friends. I didn’t have a car either.
When I walked down the quiet roads, the only thing I saw was wild grass growing in the fields.
I used to rub soft grass against my cheek, pretending it was someone close to me. That gave me a little comfort. About a 20-minute walk from school, there was a bank. A man who looked Korean worked there. Whenever I missed Korean people, I walked to that bank and looked at him through the window.

Loneliness felt like a sickness. Someone once told me there was a Korean person just a few blocks away. I ran there and knocked on the door. A sleepy-looking Asian man opened it. He was from Singapore. Did Americans really not know the difference between Singaporeans and Koreans?

Someone else said there was a place with many people who looked like me if I took a train.
That place was Flushing. I stood on Main Street all day smiling at people walking by. But people avoided my eyes and walked past quickly.

When I came back and opened my door, it felt like opening a coffin and lying down inside.
But just knowing that Flushing existed made me happy. It meant I could spend half a day not feeling lonely. Back then, I thought I could marry any healthy Korean man who could speak my language. I didn’t care about looks or money — I just didn’t want to be alone.

I called the junior colleague.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“What kind of person?”
“He’s American.”
There was no reply.
“Why? You don’t want to meet him?”
“I don’t even want to speak English. And I can’t live without Korean food.”

If I had known more English back then, I wouldn’t have minded dating an American either.
Maybe my junior is not feeling as desperate yet.
“Okay. If I find a Korean guy, I’ll let you know.”

These days, many Koreans who come to the U.S. live alone.
They seem to have enough money, and with the Korean Wave (Hallyu), maybe they don’t feel as lonely as we did.
In the old days, when there were fewer Korean men and women here, we really tried hard to find partners.
People even went to the airport when a young Korean arrived.
But maybe those days are just memories now.