MiJin Cho

My tongue splits into two whenever I visit home.

The bigger half holds my “How are you doing?” and

My smaller yields my “요즘 뭐하고있니?” and

I wait for a response, anticipating either language

to filter through my ears. Lingering in translation.

This is the Konglish way, the Korean American way,

since my flight landed in Virginia back in 2007.

I made my first Virginian friend using the staccatos of my

native tongue. Dicing my words into striking syllables,

I ask Erin, “지즈피자 오케이?” (Che-ese Pi-za O-kay-ee?),

before handing a five-dollar bill to the impatient

Costco cashier with a blue, blonde bob. I feign a bite

and I walk in place to imitate us going back home to eat.

I was 7 then, desperate for Erin to accept my mime.

Insufficient. No matter how hard I yell, how loud I get,

No one in my 1st grade class can understand me, not even

Erin. My heart searches for my mom in Kiss & Ride, longing

to be safe in the cocoons of “좋은하루지넸어?” (“Did you have

a good day?”). I’ve felt the same warmth in only two other

places: my very Korean church and my room where my voice

is the only noise bouncing between the inner walls. I hear me.

Language placed me and my mom on a different starting

Lines. Hers starts and ends where the eye can see,

And in between is a struggling family, a 9-to-5 job, and a

late suppers that we finish at 10pm. My line is newly painted.

It is an arrow pointing to the horizon: a college, a dream,

With friends of all backgrounds, from whom I can absorb

the nuances of the very American way. “좋은거야.” My

Mother tells me, “It’s what I always wanted for you.”

Nowadays, my tongue comes loose after 3pm on Thursdays.

I’ve learned to use rude and impatient English, forgetting

the privilege of rolling perfect R’s using my foreign-born tongue.

It’s the Thursday after a long shift when my grogginess fogs

up my goggles and I can no longer sense the immediate danger

of my tongue becoming loose. That I joke a little too hard.

My mouth slips, accidentally calling my employer an imbecile.

I am the fool. I should’ve never left the airport back in ’08.