Day will become night again.

I am leaving Korea today. I am going back through the portal today. This is a letter I wrote a few days ago to archive my feelings about leaving Korea, returning to America, and bringing 엄마 home.

Saying goodbye to our home. June 6, 2026, 포항.

2026년 6월 4일
June 4, 2026

I leave Korea in four days.
I leave 포항 in two days.
In four days, I will be in America.
In four days, I will be in Virginia.
Day will become night.
Today will become yesterday.
My heart feels heavy with grief.

I’m excited to see 엄마. I’m excited to see Gamja. But 90% of the things I will be doing in Virginia will be some level and combination of stressful, difficult, overwhelming, complicated, and sad.

Sorting through all of our family’s belongings. Sorting through all of 아빠’s belongings. Deciding which of our belongings to sell, donate, and keep. Making impossible decisions.

Taking pictures of our belongings that we are willing to sell, putting them up on Facebook Marketplace, and coordinating sales with neighbor-strangers. Packing the car and taking our belongings we are willing to donate to Goodwill.

Parting with 아빠’s brown leather armchair that we’ve had since I was in middle school. This feels impossible.