2025 is when the plot will thicken.

Sometimes it will be dripping with honey and sometimes it will be suffocated with tar.

I will ride on the back of a motorcycle in Bangkok and devour pad thai + ice cold beer,

I will wander through the temples of Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai and scuba through the crystal clear waters of Thailand’s Atlantis AKA Koh Tao.

Then, I will fly to Saigon and I will eat $1 pho and drink Vietnamese coffee until I can’t sleep because I will not want to miss a single moment. I’ll ride through the Ha Jiang Loop and wander through the emerald fields of Sapa and sit in a homestay as I eat Chestnut cake and reminisce on everywhere and everyone I’ve fallen in love with.

I will meet my Mother in Ha Long Bay — a life long dream of hers. We will watch the calm sea and think of her mother who is no longer here with us. We will then meet my sister in Korea and we will shop and drink and laugh and make memories over Korean BBQ and strawberry patbingsoo. I will then say goodbye to my family as I venture through Korea all alone – desperately trying to replant my blood into its soil. I will try to will myself to sprout, but it will be difficult. I will perfect a Kimchi recipe and bring it back with me to New York City.

I will fly to Japan and flip through polaroids of my grandparents getting married. I will leave them their favorite fruits at their altars and will finally close my eyes and dream of them and how they both still existed on this earth merely a year ago.

I will cry. I will grieve. I will remember the taste of my grandmother’s cooking and pray that it never leaves my mouth. I will have more dreams of how she is with me and she cooks for my future children. I will dream of a world where i had time to learn fluent Japanese — we communicate with each other perfectly.

I will visit her birthplace, Nagasaki. I will fold paper cranes and meet her older sister and step on the grass that was once rotted with nuclear toxins and hate. I will honor the bombing victims, including my family. My grandmother was 9 months old when she survived.

I will continue to live a fast paced life but will be reminded by this trip that I can take things slowly.

I will thank myself over and over again for thickening my life with something new. something delicious. something that I can eat by myself.