I shuffle wearily before my front door, removing my shoes as hastily as I possibly can while so mentally drained. I love my job, I do. And I love my clients as well, I swear I really, really do.

It's a rewarding job, but it's also such an incredibly draining job as well.

But, working as a guidance counselor in Seoul has been everything I'd hoped it would. At first, I'd worried whether or not I was truly qualified to immigrate here, to work here either.

Ever since my mother had remarried I'd dreamed of seeing Korea for myself, Seoul specifically. Her new husband, the only father I'd ever know, hailed from South Korea's capital city and had always regaled me with tales about how different life was there as opposed to the U.S.

In college, I'd dreamed of studying abroad. To me, it seemed like the only plausible way I'd ever get to travel to Korea, and I'd been so pumped for it. But my dreams were quickly dashed by a heavy dose of reality.

At the time, my little brother was still in high school, and my mother suddenly became so very ill that I couldn't bear to leave. Cancer. That's what it turned out to be. Thankfully, she'd reacted positively to chemo, and after a long battle, she'd been proclaimed cancer free. Unfortunately, I missed my chance to go overseas. I'd been needed at home, even if dad had adamantly been against it.

He'd wanted me to go, but only because he knew how badly I'd wanted it.

By the time I finished school, I realized that I didn't want to be a therapist like I'd originally intended. Getting a job as a guidance counselor had been easy enough, and rewarding enough too. But it wasn't long before I began to dream of Seoul once more.

I could immigrate, I'd thought to myself. But surely South Korea had no shortage of councilors, at least, that's what I'd figured.

Ironically, my mom was the one to convince me to try, regardless of the odds.

"What's the worst they can say?" She'd pointed out. "No?"

Of course, she was entirely correct. How could I know unless I tried?

I can still remember how excited and happy my family had been for me when I got that letter of acceptance, and when I received a job offer from Seoul National University. We'd all been floored, my little brother included.

I also still remember how it was my dad who'd had the hardest time hiding his sadness, which is not to insinuate that his joy for me wasn't real. It's just...

Normally one expects mothers to be the one to cry and remind you of all the silly things that you could never forget in a million years. To this day, I still recall his tear stained face and the solemnity in his voice as he'd told me again what I've always known.

"No matter what, " he'd gushed as he'd hugged me tightly, "never forget how much your mother and I love you. You'll always be my baby girl."

I smile fondly and sigh, grateful that it is Friday. Tomorrow I'll skype Mom and Dad, check up on them and my brother. It's a weekly ritual and one that I don't intend to break any time soon.

Eagerly, I slip out of my day clothes in favor of donning my favorite set of pajamas. The fuzzy set is an abomination to the eyes, but so damn comfortable that I just couldn't care less.

The next order of business is to pop some leftover take-out into the microwave and get a cup of tea brewing. I stand at my window, teacup in hand as I take in the city's lights. It's honestly still everything I'd hoped it would be, though that's not to say that being a foreigner doesn't come with it's own set of challenges.

Luckily, I'd grown up in a multicultural household with a father who'd insisted I learn Korean as well as English.

The beeping of the microwave brings me out of my reverie, and I sigh. To be honest, I'm getting a little tired of take out, but at the same time, cooking for one person is just more effort than it's worth. A quick glance at the calendar hanging above my sink reveals that tomorrow is the eighteenth of May, which means that grandma and grandpa should be back from visiting dad in America.

"I should pay them a visit, " I murmur quietly to myself.

It's been a while since I've seen them, though they are always asking me to join them for dinner. I think, at first it had been awkward. Growing up they hadn't really been around much, only ever coming to visit for holidays. Of course, it wasn't until around fourth grade that I truly began to realize that my brother and I didn't have the same father in truth, but even so. Later, I began to wonder if his parents truly loved me like they did my brother, seeing as how I wasn't truly related to them.

But I'd been wrong, and worried for nothing.

A home cooked meal would be nice, and besides, it'd be nice to see family this weekend. One of the only downsides I've found in moving here has been that it can be awfully lonely. It isn't as if I don't have any friends, although mostly I do just have acquaintances. I think truly, it's the lack of familial ties.

I have two really great friends, in fact. Both of which have been hounding me about visiting my grandparents soon anyways.

"Alright, it's settled." I say to myself, talking to nothing more than the air around me.

Tommorow is going to be a busy day.