My hometown Garden City

When I pass through Queens and into Long Island, I begin to have a deep nostalgia from the bottom of my heart. I feel with compassion that don’t feel when I go to my hometown, Seoul Korea.

The first place I came to the United States was Garden City in Long Island. All of the people got out of the car, entered the house, got out of the house and got in the car and disappeared. There was not a single person to listen to my stuttering English in such busy life.

One day, wandering the road to loneliness and went to an open American church and sat in the back. There were couples that of men playing the organ and a woman playing the harp approached me and welcomed as if they were aware of my loneliness.

The couple in their early 50s who had no children often invited me to their home by making food they learned at the Chinese Cuisine Institute. They took me to the Thanksgiving parade in New York City. I also enjoyed the adventure of the Garden City Antique Car Parade in their classic Rolls Royce car, which they pampered. Not only that, they brought me to various restaurants to taste but also invited me to the family party and spent the holidays with their family members.

The more they try, the more burdens I get, So I backed away at their efforts and eventually moved to New York City. They did not give up my hands until I was promised to visit every time I board, but after I got married I had no courage to show up in front of them.

I often stayed on the beach in Long Island near Garden City and missed them. When the second child was born and the child walked, I was lying on the Jones Beach and suddenly went looking for their home. I went to search for my memories, and they moved. I asked the neighbor and I was only able to find their new house when it dark.  

I hesitated to return my home because the house too big and grand. I took courage and pressed the doorbell. The Asian woman opened the door and after a while the wife came out. She was surprised to see me run into the night with children. 'What happened? Tell me. I will help you.” She said.  When I saw her greeted me as before, I sniffed.

I calmed down my children climbed on the sofa with sandy feet and I looked around. The Chinese maids wearing white aprons in black uniforms were going back and forth. Why was Asian maid looking like me?

"Where do you want to go?" Every time my husband asks me, my heart goes to Garden City. Is there a McDonald couple, like tattoos on my body with black dots in my memory are still alive? The Garden City where they are really home to me, but it's too far for me to approach.