Dear Family and Friends,

Today is the day in which I cross into my fifth month abroad. It is a day in which I will continue to perplex my students with a barrage of “native English” and a day in which my mother is likely to assist a baby into the world. But mostly it is a holiday in which you, my family and friends, will gather together in your respective homes, put together a feast, will squabble, will sup, will toast your blessings.

And while today is a day of public feasting, a celebration of goodness, and a time to give thanks; for me, far away from my family, my friends, and my favorite feast, today brings much homesickness and a bit of introspection. I’ve found myself reflecting on my journey so far, what I’ve learned, what I have yet to learn, and what I have to be grateful for. I find that I am grateful for the opportunity to travel, grateful for my health, incredulous of my luck. And yet, thus far, I do not have the words to express the importance of my journey. To explain the reason why I departed from those who love me. To define what I hope to discover.

Instead, in my head, over and over, I’ve turned and returned to the varied and extraordinary kindnesses that have meant so much to me. From the family who flew from afar to say farewell… to the close friends who said “I will miss you but I’m glad that you are going.” From the friends who threw and attended my good-bye feast… to the unshed tears of both my mother and father as I turned and walked through airport doors.

And then there was the kindly smile that greeted me at Wendy House, the friend who sat down and had me laughing within moments of making her acquaintance, and the playful grin from the tutor with two children and two husbands and two cats. There were “the boys” who made me laugh, who distracted me into dipping my feet in concrete, who held classes so smooth that my goal became to emulate them, who waited for us to ride the Big Wheel, who “oohed” when my friend’s home was secured and “oohed” again when my friend’s baby was born, and who stayed up late to assure me of assistance when I needed reassurance most. There were the wonderful, wonderful students who smiled at my bumbling and later praised me for it, the proffered expertise that allowed me visit an ancient wonder, the lady who harbored my treasured baby, the generous insights into everything Cambodian, the companion that taught me to stroke silks, the companions with the smarts to win us a quiz, and the face of a formerly frolicking friend plastered against my café window when I was lonely and so very alone. There were the girls who sent me into giggles as I hauled durian and dragon fruit into W House, the cab driver who delivered me safely to the train, the super tuk tuk driver who whisked me away from a rainy market even after I had driven a hard bargain, the gentleman who rescued me with my first and only motorcycle ride, and the many eager conversationalists who inquired “where are you from?” and laughed when I replied “the United States. Where are you from?”

I am grateful for the white-bearded man who provided me a wide target, for the friend who treated me to tea in a city garden oasis, for the ladies who accompanied me into slicked street as I bid farewell to the lights of Bangkok, and ever so grateful for the Korean guiding teacher who balanced my unbalanced cabinet and held his countenance when tears rolled down my face. I am exceedingly grateful for the co-teacher who thoroughly introduced me to teaching high school in Korea and allows me to vent in his direction, grateful to the lady who took my arm and treated me to her smile plus a mug, grateful for the teacher who always says “how can I help you?” and notifies me when “the cafeteria has called” (i.e. it is time to eat), and even for the teacher whose enthusiasm for English Lit makes her face glow while working with students shrinks her. And I must, must be grateful for the students who clap as class begins, for the students who nod through reading class and for the students who beg “please, no more talking about this, teacher.”

So many kindnesses from so many… the gentlemen who simply gave me the computer cord that I was crazy for, the lady who pointed me to the subway change machine, the companion who knocks on my door and asks “how about a walk?” not to mention the companions that I’m amassing who share both my consternation for the Korean language and my love for adventure. Last night, I couldn’t decide whether to be dubious about or grateful to the crazy, tweed-clad Korean gentlemen, who kept “helping” me at E-Mart and subsequently inspired me to join him in a curbside line dance.

Throughout these times and back in the States, I’ve been fortunate enough to have friends who correspond with careful thoughtfulness, friends who mail spices with aromas that can be followed from some distance, friends who send me laugh out loud global warming postcards, friends who send chocolate that weeks later I continue to taste mentally. I have been so fortunate to have friends who send pictures and book reviews, friends who inflate my ego with compliments on my writing, friends who hog-tie others into reading my prolific story-telling, friends threatening to visit Asia, and friends who do not allow me to loose touch with the ups and downs of their lives.

And there has been, and hopefully always will be, the kind family who send me letters packed with poetry, who pick out stocking gifts in October, who have trouble typing because my black cat clutches. Family who PDF me political cartoons, family that signs every missive with “I love you and miss you,” family that surprises me with warming clothing, family that supports me to the point of buying a thousand dollar plane ticket and is cheerfully resigned to bringing a large suitcase.

Although unable to yet give you the words to define or justify my journey; I nonetheless give thanks for the kindness that I’ve received. And while I’m unable to celebrate Thanksgiving in the traditional and preferred way of clutching at my family’s hands and cutting into turkey, I will picture you all, hopefully warm and dry and safe and comfortable and happily celebrating, together. And you may picture me, in the colored lights of darkened Daegu, Republic of Korea, laughing with friends and enjoying the traditional American feast of a hamburger and fries and beer.

I love you all.

Laura