Before leaving my bedroom that morning, I snapped a quick photo of it — capturing the messy desk, the books on the shelves that I never got to read, and the bed I tidied up for the first time. At the front door, I hugged my little brother one last time, a little tighter and longer than usual. The twisting-gut feeling that came from the approaching day of the flight date was gone. So was the stress of finishing packing. This was it.
Driving down Garvey Ave., the trees fencing both sides of the street spun past me like a film strip projected by the waking sun. I admired them like how I did in the past, first as a kid in the backseat and later as a licensed high school driver. Now, I admired them as a college student exiting the neighborhood tucked between the palms of Monterey Park and Rosemead.
After being at Swarthmore for a month now, I cannot help but notice the moments that would have been filled by something else back in California. These moments — a joke an old friend would get, the sunny weather, or even the fact that the streets have sidewalks on both sides — take me back. The one that really does it is the food.
To say I miss the food back in Los Angeles is an understatement. The proximity and convenience were unmatched. Practically every type of cuisine could be found on one long street. These places would be open late too, satisfying any late night cravings. Dessert places as well. Grabbing a sweet treat with friends or by yourself was never out of the question, especially after a big meal. One of my favorite places to go to was Yoshinoya, a Japanese rice bowl chain.
As a regular at the location near my home where the cashier practically watched me grow up, I had to eat there one last time before going off to college. As always, the same order: a combo with rice, teriyaki chicken, original beef, and steamed veggies. Sounds pretty simple but it got the job done for more than ten years. Yoshinoya was part of my list of “last meals in Los Angeles” before Pennsylvania. In-N-Out was, of course, on that list as well.
To others, In-N-Out may be like many fast food burger chains. For me, I always associated it with victories and spontaneous food trips. There was always a sublimity to sitting in the car with friends after deciding to get In-N-Out. The feeling was even better after coming back from a sunny day at the beach or a long hike. During the car rides, we would be jamming to whoever was on aux. Then we go from waiting in line to squishing ourselves into the cherry booths, filling the wait-time for our orders with conversations, sips of soda, and milkshakes while watching the people in white caps bustle around. When our burgers and animal fries came, we feasted like it was our first time ever touching a burger. Then we enter a lethargic state, only for someone to ask “Boba?” Our heads would answer, and we would race out those glass doors.
Out of all the places I miss eating the most, the first place I will go when I fly back for break would be my home, so I can taste my mom’s cooking again. There have been days in the past month where I thought a bowl of white rice, coupled with her side dishes would be so good. The steamed egg dish — a melting jello-like dish, when eaten together with rice was heaven on Earth. Stir-fried or boiled vegetables, 排骨 (spare pork ribs), and the different soups she made were also amazing. I would die for her crunchy version of 蒸肉餅, a steamed pork patty. Would I be crazy to say that I might even miss 苦瓜, bitter melon? Maybe it will all taste like the first bites I had as a kid once I go back.
Underneath all this longing for familiar food are the familiar connections, the friends and families that I got to share these meals with. The conversations over hot pot or Korean barbecue were so filling. Even when the food went cold or the fire went out for the night, our hearts and souls were warm.
Scrolling through the thousands of food pictures on my phone — #CameraEatsFirst — I can see the passing of their hands or a candid moment of their faces at the edges, a laugh or smile. Coming from a culture where food is a big love language, to say I miss the food is to say I miss the people I love.
I know I miss them more when their names do not appear on the recently called list or when our chat history gets buried by the new conversations in messages. So, I call or text them when I get a chance to catch up, hoping to make the past feel recent, that I am still there. Except I am 2,000 miles away, only able to drive down memory lane. However, the photos we exchange of our food over text, feels like we are all there, together. The text bubbles mimic our voices. Funny because I know exactly how they talk, so I read the text like how they talk, holding it all closer to my heart as I close my eyes.
A watercolor L.A. appears — birds of paradise and poppies, blooming across the cities and mountains despite the wet-on-dry climate. Explosive sunsets, bleeding oranges, reds, and blues paint the plazas and houses. It begins to darken, muddied because I have touched it too much. An artist knows a piece of artwork is best finished after leaving it alone for a while to come back to later, so I open my dewy eyes.
The sun that we all share says hello. Each morning it shines a light on what awaits: the friends and new adventures at Swarthmore. I would be a fool to turn away, living in my own cave allegory.
Being from the West Coast, I have always enjoyed watching the sunsets. Now on the East Coast — the side of the bed of land where I am awake while California is still asleep — it is time to learn how to enjoy the sunrises.
Writer’s note: I did get a chance to go back home during Fall Break. Although it was quite short, I did a lot, and mostly ate. I met with friends. Our conversations felt like they never ended. Family dinners felt more special. The sun hitting my skin felt warmer than I remembered. Now, I am recharged, ready to face the rest of the semester and more.
