Can't Slow Me, No

As soon as I'm up, I'm off into the halls of eep. Navigating to her room is like second nature, despite our lack of dreams together; maps can be made in many ways. I arrive, marveling for a minute at the craftsmanship around the doorframe, which is a very unusual sight here, and then knock. It barely takes a beat for her to open the door, and rush into my arms for a hug. I separate and say "How about we head somewhere that you're familiar with?" "Right now?" I nod with a big smile. She nods excitedly and takes my hand "Alright, I'll see what I can do." She begins running, with me a step behind. The halls form around her intention on where to arrive, through my thoughts and intention for us to go there. Once this crystallizes, our run brings us face to face with a door. I open it for her, and we step through.

We emerge onto the streets of Korea, which are bustling with foot traffic. We find ourselves lost in a crowd. The walk is quite refreshing, a brilliant counterpoint to the sparsely traveled halls of eep. There is something familiar with these foreign lanes. I utter a poem, beneath the bustle of the crowd. 

With a collision

Many frontiers are

Collapsing to one

We are foreigners

Alighting each other's shores 

Bringing our mottos 

Fire in our feet

Exhilaration in heart 

Others sondering 

There's a way for us

In this alley step by step

We will find our way

Our past behind us

So much unfolding in front

We won't lose ourselves 

Tying our laces

We will not run the whole race

Each a relayed piece

Each piece skitters on

Along the eternal path

Meaning in its weight

'With whole, a portion

We divide into three parts

Still seeming the same.'"

We find our way to OTTO Gimbap, and open the door. We take our seats and I am still smiling ear to ear, just being here with her. Our gifts of The Holy Spirit are still in full effect, including both inconspicuousness and the ability to communicate freely with each other, in our own native tongues. I lead off the conversation with "It's hard for me to imagine what we would do without the ability to speak so easily." "I know! It really is one of the most amazing gifts, connecting the foreigner and native born, though I am in the process of learning your language." "That's awesome! I wish I could say the same, for me, on yours. I've picked up the cadence and a select few phrases, but learning the language at large feels like an insurmountable challenge." I hang my head sadly, feeling as though I've failed to meet her halfway on this matter. "It's okay." She says reassuringly, as she lifts my chin with her hand. "We each have our roles to play on this dance. You've become somewhat of a savant at your own language, it would be a shame to cloud that." "Thank you so much for saying so! Now, I've watched from the sidelines for so long, and know you so well in certain ways, but still feel like I hardly know anything about your life. Please, share it all. How was it growing up, what's your family like, what's your favorite color? Give me every detail!" So without delay, at a rapid pace that I can only keep up with because it is her speaking, she runs through her life story, making time for all the beautiful little tangents along the way. About an hour passes like this before it feels like her story has become, in part, mine now, as well. She finally pauses, having fulfilled my request amazingly, and then asks. "How about you? You must have stories galore from your years spent. Share a couple with me." 

I find it so difficult sometimes to remember stories from decades ago, and I feel like the recent years have so much less to tell, especially that I haven't codified into poem and story. Still, I think for a moment, and come up with a tale. 

"Once, when I was in college, I heard the legend of the giant albino raccoon. I didn't believe it initially, feeling like it was an urban legend, but then I found myself out by the dumpsters one night. I heard a rustling in the dumpsters and walked over a little that way, to investigate. I found myself face to face with the giant albino raccoon and four of his honchos. They stood on their hind legs, in an intimidating manner, with their front paws raised high. I turned an looked to find no one else in the alley with me, and decided to challenge their position, raising my hands above my head. The back two veered off first, then the two closer to his position. Finally, the giant albino raccoon turned back and saw no reinforcements and broke off himself. I declared myself king of the garbage, and then moved on." She laughs as one story concludes,  and watches with stars in her eyes as I tell my second tale.

"There was another time where I felt pressured to my psychological limits, when I ran the branch office for a sales company. I had to hire and train many sales reps. We had a shipping issue that set us back significantly in those first few weeks, but I worked my butt off all summer to make sure we could thrive. With the help of my family, and a key endorsement from management, we were able to bring that branch office into successful fruition."

The stories continue back and forth as we finish our meal. Another, much more quiet, stroll finishes our evening, as we make our way hand in hand back to eep. It feels as though there is little more to add, nothing more that needs to be added, beneath the giggling, shimmeying, celebration of love. Something about this feels so familiar, that we each just walk into our own rooms, calling the night to an end, knowing it will begin again.  On this threshold, betwixt night and day, I speak a sonnet to mark time spent, together, and in separation.

"I see you glaring through a tiny slit

There will be voyages beyond this one

Now narrow view, but we'll see all of it

Home or away, we will never be done

Perhaps I can slow the beat of your heart

There is a time for racing, all night long

I wish for you to rest with me, as art 

In two gears, we can both be, in this song

Share all your stories, I'll hear with my ears

Let our stories all settle together

Your voice can sooth away all of these years

My love, always improving, forever

May our most mundane moments shine brightly

As I hold onto your hand so tightly."