Lost homecoming

'Avignon' is a word that brings back memories of my bittersweet and romantic youth.

After high school, my best friend and I often went to a tailor shop named Avignon. Her stylish older sister, who went to Ewha University, got her clothes made there. We looked through fashion magazines, chose styles we liked, and tried to dress up like her.

My friend was the youngest in her family, with older siblings who were smart and mature. So she grew up fast. She was neat, confident, and good at everything. We were close for many years. Then, one day, she suddenly got married and moved to America without saying goodbye.

Maybe because of her, I also changed my plan. I was going to go to Paris, France, but instead, I went to the U.S. as if I was looking for my missing other half. I tried to find her in America but failed. Later, when I visited Korea, I looked for traces of her past.

I searched the neighborhood of Maljukgeori where she used to live. But the old fields were gone, replaced by apartment buildings. The country path with young green sprouts, the thick trees where cicadas sang, and the snowy fields we used to walk together — all had disappeared. I remembered the church she went to in Seodaemun and visited it. Then I found out she now goes to a church in New York — not far from where I live. At that church, I saw a child who looked just like her.

“What’s your mom’s name?” 

I asked. She had a different last name, but the same first name. The child looked so much like my friend when she was young that I almost cried.

“My wife is at home preparing for guests. Let’s go together,” 

her husband said.

We went to their big house. Many elegant people were chatting around the pool. I found my friend and suddenly started crying hard. Even now, I think I was very childish. I had brought my brother-in-law, his wife, and three kids in a crowded car, just to see her. At that time, my life was very hard, and I looked tired and poor. As I left in the car, she waved goodbye. I saw pity in her eyes. Some say that when life is hard, you should stay quiet and hide. Then, when life gets better, you can see friends again. But I was in such a rush. Why?

Later, she contacted me. She was helping organize our high school reunion. I was happy to hear from her. But again, I caused trouble. I didn’t bring money for the reunion, so she paid for me. I planned to pay her back next time. Then she called and said,

“Most of our class reunion are doing well. The next reunion is at a classmate’s huge house in Long Island. I’m worried you might feel hurt seeing how well others live. Maybe it’s better not to come.”

Now, the reunions still happen somewhere, but I went only once. I never went again. I should have waited. I should have been patient.