Korean. I’m Korean. Did she speak Korean? Anyoung haseyo? A shake of the head. “I’m sorry. I don’t speak Korean, either.” 

Sometimes, she couldn’t help but say, “sad, I know. Pathetic, really,” depending on how insecure she felt about it at the moment. (READ the rest of the chapter at my website.


photo by Thien Dang on Unsplash



photo by Jason Ortego

Without him, she would probably become a recluse; wear afghans around the house, order everything she needed online, live her life through social media, raise three dogs she would dress-up and treat like her children–too afraid to interact with the outside world for fear of failure or rejection. (Read More at

The past fades away…

I can barely sit still in the hard, plastic chairs facing the stage and as always when this moment comes I wish I was standing in the mosh-pit where it’s too crowded for anyone to see my face and judge my reaction.

The spotlights are roving and tension building music seems to be drifting from somewhere although I’m not sure if that’s the ambiance in my head or if the band is playing.

My ears are hyper-tuned to the emphatic screams of girls yelling, “JOSIAH” and as always I think for a moment that these voices are the loudest.  Every time a voice is heard clear and piercing above the rest, my heart does a little victory dance.

Afterward, as the cheers fade and the stage empties, the fervor-ed and surreal state I’ve been drifting in dissipates as swiftly as a rosy dream I might cling to when morning comes.

Cool, night air fills my lungs outside the stage and I realize that this moment in time will fade just as quietly, with just as little fanfare when the time arrives for Josiah to come home.

Silence —-is daunting.  But I’m not afraid because, “We are all time voyagers leaving history in our wake, pioneering into the future” (Erwin Raphael McManusChasing Daylight).

And the future is where I want to go.