She is a girl playing dress-up in a nun’s habit. A rainbow-tailed unicorn, disguised as a workhorse.
She runs toward me with her arms outstretched and I am four, five, and six–my stubby legs propelling me forward until I am swathed in the dove-grey of her skirt, a child with her heart broken, a lost thing without a mom or dad. (Read the FULL STORY) at Hanahawley.com
Photo by me, Daegu, South Korea at White Lily Baby Home
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 HanaHawley.com
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.”
(photo by Jacob Kapusnak for unsplash)
Stepped onto Korean soil for the first time in thirty-years this week. The last time I was in Korea, I was just seven years-old.
Excerpt from my post:
I study the quiet and sleepy faces around me in the “foreigner” immigration line. We shuffle along as the “resident” line across the way from us empties. It feels a little strange to be in the line with foreigners because technically, I am coming home…Read the Full Story at http://www.hanahawley.com on Searching for Seoul.
Photo by Sean Kong
It was for the music, that Jiro did it all.
READ THE FULL CHAPTER: http://www.hanahawley.com
“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 http://www.hanahawley.com
When you wake-up in Tokyo, California dreaming… READ THE STORY at Hanako and Jiro in Japan on hanahawley.com.
Photo by Hernan Sanchez
Something deep in her, a familiar voice she had trusted many times before had said, you take a step, I’ll be there to meet you. It felt as though by putting herself physically in motion, she was saying “yes,” to that voice, thereby mobilizing her destiny in the process. (Read the rest of the chapter at HanaHawley.Com)
Photo by Tom Parkes