the weather.

I wasn't ready to come home. I really wasn't. When asked if I was excited, I kind of shrugged my shoulders, thinking the closer I got to landing, the more likely it would be for my heart to skip a bit. I understand, after having been gone from the land of the morning calm for one month, and by my clock, having already been greeted by the customs man one month and a few short hours ago, why I wasn't quite looking forward to what awaited me. 

I genuinely don't know what direction I want my life to go, and though I know I can do whatever I want, powerlessness rests in the fact that I am not quite sure what that is. And all of these questions and ultimatums were clouded with the fog of a foreign country, and the fact that I was doing something and experiencing something that most people will never get the opportunity to do.  

When I was driving home this past Sunday to eat pancakes with the parents, there was a layer of fog covering different phases of the earth. In the beginning, it hovered over the wet grass, and kept it from being the focal point. I could still see its greenness, but it didn't command my attention, because the mysterious beauty of the visible moisture in the air that's different and rare and only comes around sometimes...It stole the show. When I was in Korea, I was loving the fog.

Now, I must make choices. Today is cloudless, and I feel everything but adequate.