The One About Mehwedge (cue the priest in The Princess Bride)

Hanako despised the way their conversations entered a freefall of chaotic words and too tender feelings. The way they could pick apart each other’s sentences like birds pecking at nearly bare bones. At these moments, Hanako often felt as though she would rather die than admit she could have said or done things differently.

Read More at Hanako and Jiro in Japan on hanahawley.com20900555_10159242825260486_1449717507173538304_o


The One About Living in Exile…Hanako and Jiro in Japan

Why did it sometimes hurt so much to think that everything wasn’t for her? That the story she stepped into wasn’t always her own? Wasn’t it possible that God loved her and her friend equally? She’d always had the sneaking suspicion He played favorites.

Read the rest at


Photo by Christopher Sardegna via Unsplash




When you’re too old to shop Forever 21 but too young to give-up trendy clothes…

Chapter 14 of Hanako and Jiro’s Adventures in Japan is about aging and kindness. Read the full story at

(Excerpt): The fluorescent lights, the pulsing music, the bright yellow bags: all of it for the benefit of the forever twenty-one and under set whose skin miraculously looks brighter under the punishingly harsh lights, whose feet have danced club floors to the music piping through the store’s speakers, and for whom the plastic shopping bags will swing with freedom about their slim legs as they leave the incubator of youth in an hour’s time.


Hanako and Jiro in Japan: CH 13 Fortune Cookie Wisdom​ (Jiro)

When the older gentleman enters the room, everyone stands and bows deeply. Jiro follows suit, but Mr. Saito quickly reaches for his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Jiro-san,” he says. And there is something at once elegant and sharp about the slender man’s eyes, a hint of humor, at the corners of his mouth that Jiro likes instantly.

Read more about Hanako and Jiro’s adventures in Japan at



Photo by Ana Grave for Unsplash



On my blog: Searching for Seoul, I talk about being an orphan, an adopted child, and a woman, seeking her identity. Last week, I went to Korea for the first time since I was seven years-old to meet the woman responsible for helping me find my birth dad last summer. Here is a short intro. You can read the FULL STORY at

The night I met Sister Theresa for the first time, she took me and Josiah to eat a traditional Korean meal at her friend’s restaurant. I felt spoiled, and loved, and slightly sad. I let my imagination run away from me. A glimpse into what goes on in my head sometimes, in this post called “Chopsticks.”

“Her eyes seep sadness. They sting like old wounds reopened–wide and gaping. I imagine for a moment that she sees her own abandoned daughter–a hint of the child she once knew in the shape of my face.”jakub-kapusnak-296881.jpg

(photo by Jacob Kapusnak for unsplash)


“The demand for your genre is down right now,” her literary agent had said kindly before her move to Tokyo. In her bleaker moments, Hanako reinterpreted that to mean, “no one gives a shit about what you’ve written right now.” READ THE STORY at


Photo by Igor Cancarevic on Unsplash