reminders.

There will always be things to trigger the memories I am currently making here. I am nearly through the completion of all five seasons of the HBO series Six Feet Under. This show will always remind me of my time in the little apartment in South Korea. 

Playing currently is the music of Bon Iver. The album "For Emma, Forever ago" was given to me by a friend the day before I departed, and the lyrics and music of this group will serve as the soundtrack of my days here. It's an appropriate play on the evenings of darkness and candle light, when I am alone and wishing I wasn't. It fits the days of sunshine, like today, when I am choosing to be present and thankful. 

As of this past Friday, a few more memory triggers: Darth Vader, light sabers and all things Star Wars. I have managed to make it through twenty-five years on the continent of North America without having seen these movies. When my brother was home at Christmas watching television, I wandered in the living room, glanced at the thirty-five inch screen, and inquired as to what he was watching. He responded with a bewildered, "You DON'T know WHAT this IS?" I said no. His reply: Star Wars, Meredith. I feel some sense of patriotic guilt, even though these movies have nothing to do with American pride. How have I managed this? Firstly, I have a massive aversion to aliens. In other words, I HaTe them. They give me the creeps. I feel uncomfortable when forced to look at their odd shaped, leathery and/or disfigured bodies on screen. No, I don't even like E.T. They belong in outer space, and I wish they would all go home and take worms with them. But since South Korea is a time of firsts, and since I do like creatures (think Doby from Harry Potter), this seemed like the appropriate time conquer the six episode feat. Episode four has been finished, and besides a stomach churning alien filled bar scene, I am a fan. 

I am also a fan of cashmere. I had an encounter with it this weekend, and let's just say it's delightful in every way. I will never be able to hear the word or wear the sweater without thinking happy Korea thoughts.

The good news is that my time here is not done. I am only half-way there. I have more time to make more memories, and more reminders. And I am realizing that I have more control over my time here than I have chosen to realize. Saying it's just five weeks relegates my time here to a temporary existence, reminding me of only the things I need to get by. Think single small pot. But there is room for me to make a few things my own, and there is gratification when that happens. 

In light of that, I took the time this past weekend to purchase a table of my very own. The payment was merely the effort it took for me to carry it from the trash corner where it sat to the comfort of my little home. It didn't know if it would fit, or if it would be practical. I only knew that I liked the way it looked, and that I wanted it. So I carried, and cleaned, and rearranged, only to rearrange again. It finally found its home next to the refrigerator, against the wall, under candles and books and also Cedric the gnome.

When I come home now, after teaching or partaking in one of the reminders previously mentioned, I look over at my table, and think about how I have somewhere to sit and eat, or sit and write, and I am thankful. It feels like I brought a piece of me here, and I am affecting the place; it's not merely effecting me. And I am glad that the table that was once headed for the dump is instead here in this apartment, right where it should be, reminding me that I am too.