October

I love autumn. I love it even here in defiant little Korea, where the leaves refuse to change color and the weather remains too predictable to pull my favorite sweaters out of their hiding place in my wardrobe closet. Because even though there are few visible signs of autumn here, I can smell it in the air; fall has a subtle scent of crisp breezes and of the color orange, even when the actual weather doesn’t seem to want to comply with the season. The steam softly spiraling into the air from my cup of tea and the aroma of my glowing, scented candles are helping my imagination in my pursuit of the feeling of autumn, even though my window is wide open and I have a fan blowing in my direction. But I refuse to be disheartened by the persistently warm air that is hanging stagnant in my apartment.

Autumn represents change, and it is during the fall season that I begin to dream of what my life could look like in the not-so-distant future. Restlessness, without fail, seems to consume me during the glorious month of October. As I’ve been sprawled out on this crunchy, black leather sofa in my living room, basking in my pseudo-autumn environment, I’ve been clicking through my blog posts from last year at this time. I came across a post I had written about a trip I had taken to Chicago last fall, and as I was reading through it like an old letter from a long-lost friend, I suddenly noticed a developing pattern in my life: October, for me, means it is time for a drastic life-change. And as I’m sitting here marveling over how much my life has changed over the past twelve months, I realize—with a jolt of excitement and a pang of frustration—my feelings at this very moment seem to differ little from my feelings at this time last year.

Korea has pulled me apart and put me together again like a jigsaw puzzle, all in one year. It has been a tumultuous year, a good year, and an enlightening year; the kind of year I think everyone needs to experience at least once in their lifetime, if not a few times. My decision to come here, although somewhat unclear and difficult at the beginning, was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I have learned more about life, relationships, culture, and even myself in this one year than I have in any previous year I can remember. I have made many dear friends during my time here who have made my life all the richer by simply existing in this small corner of the world. And yet, as I sit here in my dark living room, listening to the sounds of the street drifting on the autumn air outside of my window, I realize every chapter in life has to close at some point.

October is a month of change, and my decision, although unstable and a little bit terrified at the moment, has been made. My future is still very unclear, but I know Korea will not be a part of it for much longer (and I truly hope these are not famous last words). This revelation of sorts is both gut-wrenching and curiously exciting. I have no idea what looms before me in the cold months ahead, but I thrive on change and thus have a growing desire to soak up these last few moments in Korea, and then move on. I am now waiting for the air to cool, the leaves to change, my sweaters to make their long-awaited debut, and new opportunities to arise and be taken advantage of.