July 2020. That was the month my family and I boarded a plane from Osan Air Base, South Korea and made our way to Virginia.
During our 24-hour expedition, I asked when I’d have to go through customs so I could get on the plane in Atlanta. I questioned why we didn’t go through customs in between states. I complained that I had to pay more than the advertised price because — seriously — why doesn’t this place include it in their prices?
However, we eventually landed in North Carolina, where we drove towards our new home: Blacksburg, Virginia.
As we come up to the two-year mark, I can’t stop thinking about how different my life was before coming here. Not only did it include moving during a pandemic, but it was a different culture.
Before coming here, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had been seeing. Police brutality, school shootings, destruction in a place I was going to have to make my home. My fear of witnessing pure, unadulterated hatred from a country I’m supposed to love clouded my judgment.
In my eyes, South Korea — alongside Spain — was vastly different to the lifestyle of America. They were places I understood. While I’ve lived in the United States before, it was still a strange feeling of seeing how distinct the lower 48 lived. It solidified that Hawaii and Alaska were nothing like the continental states, and how my upbringing would never prepare me for the contrast.
It was aisles and aisles of condiments, six different types of the same pencil and massive, dying malls. It was trying to fit back into this box of understanding how to act around Americans during a time when no one knew how they were supposed to act.
Not only was I moving to a new country and learning their customs, but I was transferring to a new university.
Virginia Tech was only pictures of gray brick — something I later learned was Hokie Stone — and a massive Drillfield on my computer screen. Maybe a YouTube video here and there.
Now, as we drove to our new house, there was more to it. There were green hills, red brick homes, and maroon and orange everything. Despite the pandemic, my family and I drove around town as we tried to find our ground.
Barely a month into being here, I moved in with two people I’d only met online. They taught me about the meaning of NOVA — for non-Virginians, it stands for Northern Virginia, and no, ‘SOVA’ isn’t really a thing — and helped me meet new people. I spent a year with my roommates and fell in love with Blacksburg.
The Huckleberry Trail, the birds singing from the trees and the unpredictable weather changes all began to fill my days.
Currently, I’m living on campus with new people. This is the first time I’ve lived in a dorm, and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. In a way, I’m lucky because I’m in a suite where I share a bathroom with three people rather than an entire hall.
Despite that, it’s such a contrast to having my own room. Frankly, I haven’t shared a room since I was in kindergarten, and it’s a strange feeling to live in a room with someone I met mere months ago.
In a way, it’s like being a military child.
For those unaware, April is considered the month of the military child. It’s a time where children of military families are recognized for their contributions and lifestyle; as a way to say, “We see you and we thank you.” Honestly, I never knew it was a thing until I saw people giving out purple buttons on Osan Air Base — the first installation that I’d used daily because, while I frequented Fort Wainwright, I lived on the economy. Equally, I visited Schofield Barracks from time to time, but my home was in Mililani.
Besides, you don’t notice those events when you’re a kid.
What I’m trying to say is, I’m beginning to see the end of my college experience and living in Virginia as the end of an assignment. As we near the two-year mark, I’m thinking about where I’m going next, what my next move is and how I’m going to get there.
I see shipping containers and movers and orders. My life has always been that way, and this is nothing different.
This April, I’m realizing that I’ve never understood how different I see my life’s trajectory until now. While everyone I know is preparing for their internships in NOVA this summer or figuring out how they’ll move back to D.C. after graduation next year, I’m trying to figure out how I get orders to Scotland or South Carolina. I’m looking towards a future that keeps me on the run, where I keep searching for a new home.
While I’ve loved my time in Blacksburg, I’m beginning to feel caged in. My life has grown too large to stay in one place, and it’s time to travel some more.
As I near the close of my junior year and look towards the final stretch, I can only thank Blacksburg for the love it has shown me, for the new adventures and opportunities, for showing me that the United States isn’t nearly as bad as I believed before coming here.
I can only thank Blacksburg for bringing me home.