[ ] ...these are the words that were recorded the day she dropped me off.
they echo off blank walls, colored by my imagination - changing, drifting in multi-faceted hopes and dreams at 5, 15, 25 years old. i fill in the blanks of her situation, at 5 with no other resolution than being fed well, cared much, and disciplined for my need to hide food, cajole my playmates, and hide under my blanket at night. at 15 i know nothing of korea except that it is foreign, uncool, a place where my bmom gave birth to me and sent me away for a "better life" - i'm told to thank her for giving me opportunity, and that she loves me in her "own way". i'm 25 and i know korea more vividly than i ever dreamed i would. i breathed the smog filled air of seoul for years, capturing the scent of my birthland, something too familiar, recognized by a place so deep down i can't see it, no matter how hard i look. my mind's eye plays games when i sleep, her words resound in korean, and i understand - but sadly, i do not believe. the walls of memory are slashed and ripped by vivid dream colors, and at 25 i see things too well - they blind and hurt. she gave me up to get married. she sent me away to fulfill her own dreams. dreams that you can only have in korea with a man's name. he now keeps me from her, and she keeps me from myself. i forgive, but i don't forget; i want to paint my walls with the right palette - not the dashed discord of pitiful imagination. John, adult Korean adoptee, at IAT, with permission
Originally posted 2007-02-05 19:06:41.
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