I started talking to her at a small farmer’s market. My age or a little older with pale skin and freckles – long, curly black hair. She spoke without filter, describing the process of how she made kimchi and of how a “problem tenant” situation was solved only by way of alerting the civic association (because people want to “protect their investments”). I said I’d come to visit her stand, and patronize it, at HamdenFest.
So I found her there near the end of the avenue, black dress and a red cowboy hat under triangle streamers. Took a picture while she coyly smiled. Kimchi Girl offered free samples, gave signs of openness, and said she sees herself as kind of a yente, excited about introducing me to the town. I threw up my hands and said, “Yes, I need that!”
We exchanged information and I texted her a few days later to ask about finding Hot Sauce Guy who'd been selling beside her. Receiving no response led me to her FaceBook page where I appropriately wrote "Hello!", smiley face, referenced the phone attempt.
She deleted the comment and also a post from her personal profile that was just below it. I never heard from Kimchi Girl, and I still think that’s strange. Probably the best kimchi I’ve ever eaten.
It's an odd world, and sometimes I feel like I understand less each year. The good news for me, at least, is that as you age, some of this stuff gets easier. There is no meaning to the encounter with kimchee girl. She is just mean or f***d up, you are ok and take none of her with you.... I don't see you that often, but I see the changes and growth when I do. As I've aged, I'm more secure in myself. I may not find comfort today, with this person, but I am worth it, and I will find it again....I think you will too...
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