Alexis-ssi.
I remember turning to glance at you that first day in Korean class, all of us so enraptured by Sunny Seonsaengnim, that comedic sage—her story of strapping the Korean flag under her clothes on her first flight to America, as if some kind of extremist—and it was like we were exactly where we were supposed to be.
I remember the gochujang-red fried chicken at that place in Convoy, almost agonizing to eat. We were there so much during that World Baseball Classic that our pictures were on the walls. Then, later, at Dodger Stadium, we vehemently cheered for Bum-ho Lee, because his name, but also, he was very good.
I remember you volunteering with the San Diego Asian Film Festival, and I thought that was glamorous.
I remember that time at your apartment before the Dashboard Confessional concert, we said that someday we’d be ajummas together, and Joy named us three the “Tripod,” and I kept trying to figure out in my head if this was a sensical metaphor.
I remember you looking too swallowed into that crowd at the Death Cab for Cutie concert, though you were only inches from me, and I was truly worried for us.
I remember talking to you and our other classmate outside on campus one particular afternoon, and he said something along the lines that you and I always talked about unusual things, maybe enigmatic things or something, and we talked for as long as we could before you had to leave to tend to your flies. You were always doing something with flies in those days. Experiments.
I remember the Team Korea t-shirt you sweetly made me and I wore for “Beer Olympics,” where I met my future husband, and you impressed everyone with that “can stand.” I wouldn’t have gone if it weren't for you.
I remember you telling me about your experience in Korea, about it being so cold at night in your little apartment-room, and I’ll always wish I had asked you about all of it again and again.
I remember us swimming with the leopard sharks in La Jolla, weirdly in front of that restaurant, and I wondered if it was really safe to swim with sharks, but because you were so smart, I figured you knew what we were doing.
I remember, a few years later, thinking it would be impossible to get a parking spot one morning at South Mission Beach, and seeing you so randomly there, like an angel (it was like winning the lottery), visiting from grad school, waving me over so that I could take your spot, because you were leaving, and I was baffled at the timing of it all, down to the minute, or we would have missed each other…and it seemed that the Universe was ensuring our friendship, our “elliptical orbits,” as you said, coming close together again as they had done in the other seasons; we were exactly where we were supposed to be.
I remember our first Zoom chat after the start of the pandemic and your makeshift bidet and Joy calling Stonehenge “...just a bunch of rocks.” We all laughed and laughed, and I felt a kind of spiritual home.
I remember our last Zoom chat, our “Tripod.” We talked long, long after we should have, and I had to pee so badly but didn’t want to stop chatting. You were afraid of seeing ghosts or something, in the mirror behind you, I think, on the video screen. I didn’t know it would be our last time. I was looking forward to being ajummas together, Alexis-ssi. 포고싶어. Aiiigo.
“...how do we make of our time here?” you once wrote. “Our own centers of gravity pulling and pulling. Not for things, but for each other… We are here for each other.” I’m so grateful for all of it. I am so grateful.