Isolation

I quickly get dressed and scream to my mom, “Mom! What’s the temperature like today?!”

She promptly screams back, “What? Hurry up Jeremiah, you’re going to be late for class!”

Although I can feel the anger in her voice I smile at the fact that a language barrier does not bind us. I throw on my ski jacket and rush out the door. It isn’t long before I reach the first floor and rush to the bus stop.

Biting winds roar throughout the country of Korea as I sit clutching my legs. I wait for a bus that will arrive promptly. As I scan my surroundings I can see nothing but buildings and cars. Apartment buildings and hospitals dominate the sky while the buses and taxis roam the ground. I can barely hear myself think with all the honking and squeaking ensuing around me. As the bus arrives, I quickly stand up and scan my bus card.

The bus driver bows and I promptly bow back. After I find a seat, I sit and close my eyes. Noises of people talking and cars roaring cease to exist and I am isolated in my own bubble. Although noises don’t distract me, my surroundings remain the same. Cars zip past each other and buildings still guard the sky. I study the chaos and pray that the bus driver is aware of his surroundings.

After seven stops the bus creaks to a halt at the Olympic Park. I stand up, making sure not to lose my balance, and wait for the doors to open. As I get off and begin crossing the street, nothing has changed. Vehicles still zoom through the streets and apartments control the sky. I shove my hands in my pocket and start jogging to the tennis courts. Avoiding the freezing wind and the hundreds of people swarming the streets, I finally make it to the entrance of the park.

The park is different from the city. It feels like I have...

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... critiquing and giving advice to my partner. After every single miss, my coaches consult my partner and show her how she should be striking the ball. Confused on what do to do, I stand aloof watching the breeze and blowing hot air into my hands. My partner is finally ready to begin hitting again and I prepare myself at the baseline.

We initiate a rally and after the 15th ball I miss in the net. Seconds after missing, I look to my coaches for advice or constructive criticism. They look back, nod, and start evaluating my partner’s strokes again. It didn’t take long for me to realize that they didn’t want to coach me because of our language barrier. Feeling more detached than ever, I excuse myself to the restroom.

Entering the bathroom, I splash water to my face and stare into the mirror.

I say to myself, “This is going to be a long day. You can get through this.”