This is in response to the Daily Prompt Panic https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/panic/
Photo: Hon Kim via Unsplash
“Shit. This is real.”
That’s the first thought that came to mind when my mom disappeared in the area of the airport restricted to those flying.
We had been hugging ( a rare occurrence) and crying (an even rarer occurrence) for a good 5 to 10 minutes as we tearfully separated from each other.
I hate crying in public. I really do. I tend to try to hide my face and avoid people’s eyes on me because I just hate being vulnerable in front of people. But that day I just did not care. I had 0 fucks to give. I was upset and panicky.
My mom was leaving me, after spending two weeks in Seoul. She was leaving me alone.
This felt ten times worse than moving to University the first time when I packed all my stuff and tried to drag it to Oxford via train. I knew then that my mom was an hour away by train, and my dad was 1 hour and 45 minutes away by plane.
This time the distance was a 10 hour flight from Paris – there are no direct flights to Seoul that I know of – and 8 hours of time difference.
“Oh my God, what have I done?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?”
I started thinking. I so wanted to board that plane with my mom because the prospect of not seeing my parents for a whole year was – and still is – really shitty to me. I’m so close to them, we hear from each other every single day, that the thought of going a few months without seeing them gives me separation anxiety.
But that, strangely, hadn’t stopped me from applying for a job in Seoul, or to brash aside my mom’s concern that the place was too far away and my knowledge of Korea was limited to the 네, 아니요, 아녕하세요s .
So Panic. I panicked as I was making my way out of the airport trying so hard to stop the tears. I panicked on the metro trying so hard not to cry in front of people as I was looking at the photos I had taken not that long before with my mom on the way to the airport. And I panicked as I was getting lunch before going back to the office at the thought that I would come back to my studio and find it empty.
But then I thought…my dad left his family behind in Ivory Coast and moved far away too in his twenties. He made it. I can do this too! I thought that my parents had not tried to stop me and had supported me as I went about organizing the move.
They might not be here with me, but I always have their support and so I have that of my friends.
So I still panic every now and then, but I guess I’m really doing this adult thing now and I’ll get there.