Whither Shall I Wander?
Summary: You thought of all the land and sea and worlds of people that you were soaring over and allowed yourself to believe that you could fly; that anything - including a world beyond Stars Hollow and trailing behind in Rory's shadow - was possible.
A Lane inner rant/monologue on motherhood, marriage, and milieu
Disclaimer: lyrics belong to The Killers; Lane belongs to whoever owns the rights to Gilmore Girls; and there is a borrowed a line/phrase from the lovely "Glee" somewhere in there.
A/N: i don't know where this came from probably from the twisted part of me that doesn't believe the "sunshine and puppies" image they have of everyone in stars hollow. but, review, cuz feedback (of any kind) is loved and appreciated. ;]
There's a plane and I am flying
There's a mountain waiting for me
Oh these years have been so trying
(I don't know if I can use them)
.
.
. bereft .
Rory Gilmore, contrary to the popular belief of nearly every citizen of Stars Hollow, did not hold the market corner on being a small town girl with big city dreams.
You, however, did seem to become the epitome of the phrase "to want for nothing" by the time you reached the ripe old age of seventeen. While her dreams were realized, yours were crushed and diminished, limited, and restricted.
[For Rory: the sky's the limit; for you: the limit's the sky.]
There are moments when you look back on those forced family "vacations" to Korea with, what some might call, an emotion approaching fondness. In the beautiful limbo between the silent torture of the rigidly religious Kim household and the hellfire of a Korean summer, were your glimpses and brief yet momentous tastes of freedom. With your face pressed against the Plexiglas of an airplane window, you thought of all the land and sea and worlds of people that you were soaring over and allowed yourself to believe that you could fly; that anything - including a world beyond Stars Hollow and trailing behind in Rory's shadow- was possible.
Anything.
This is the word you tucked away at the back of your mind, but pulled out and tossed around during weekly Bible Study meetings; the first time your hands wrapped around the smooth curve of a drum stick, anything came to a stop at the tip of your tongue; even when your mother kicked you out, anything didn't disappear because it meant freedom was more than just a taste away.
So, no, you didn't want to leave Yale or Rory at Yale. You wanted to test out her wings, hold onto her coattails and fly amongst the birds for just a little while longer. It was nice living [squatting] under the delusion that anything was possible - not just for Rory Gilmore but for you, too.
Anything.
. revulsion .
Getting an abortion was not an option that ever crossed your mind. [It wasn't an option at all, in fact. Not for you.]
You were Korean first, Christian second and small town dweller always and forever. You were defined as being a small town Korean Christian girl. And small town Korean Christian girls don't just abort their baby because they don't want it, because they feel trapped and terrified, because the thought of being pregnant - a mother - at twenty-two when they've only just got married and are still living with a roommate and barely make enough to support themselves, let alone anyone else, makes them choke on their tears until they can't breathe.
You don't think you'd have had the courage to do it anyway. You wonder, for a moment, if Rory could or if she would at least gather enough strength to be able to discuss the possibility.
You don't know. There is never enough time - or courage, on your part - to ask her.
. gravid .
"Shock" and "denial" were fairly apt and accurate descriptions of your first trimester.
[You did nothing but cry in the parking lot after the doctor told you the news.]
On the morning when you can't button your jeans, you panic, give Zack the freeze out for the rest of the week, and continue to wear the offending jeans, unbuttoned, beneath an over-sized Hep Alien t-shirt out of principle.
You are under siege. You feel as if you've been inhabited by some new species of aliens, which, you guess, isn't entirely untrue.
It is five months into the pregnancy, when you feel them move. You sit at the kitchen table, one hand on your kicking sons, the other tracing the outlines of their developing forms on a sonogram printout.
"Surreal" is pretty much your state of mind throughout the second trimester. It is hard to believe that there are people growing inside of you, two little boys- you realize as Zack tosses a goodbye over his shoulder as he leaves to record another song- that you will be responsible for.
"Blind panic" is all that settles over you once you reach the third trimester.
. maternity .
Giving birth is the second most humiliating [and exhausting] experience you have had to suffer through, right there between losing your virginity on a public beach in Mexico and handing out fliers from church to your classmates in the ninth grade, with Mama Kim standing right behind you, the omnipotent overseer, to be sure you didn't miss anyone.
It's different, though, once you actually meet them. Everything changes and, while you are still terrified beyond belief of how you will screw the twins up, you're thinking that this might be worth it, that this - motherhood - could be leading you towards something you were meant for.
But then, it's three weeks later and the twins have no idea that you don't regularly wake up at two in the morning and Zack heats the bottles for two minutes too long and while you're trying to cool the milk as fast as you can, Steve is screaming and Kwan is hiccupping and you're not sure you'll be able to do this for much longer.
[But, as much as giving up sounds appealing, that is not an option. Not for you.]
. yearning .
The day before Zack leaves to go on his tour, you wander down the avenues, roads, and streets of your hometown, letting your feet lead the way without putting much thought into where you're going. You stop in front of the Welcome to Stars Hollow sign and sit yourself down in front of it, plucking at the grass and blowing seeds of dandelions. You've told Zack, yourself, and everyone else that you're happy for him. You squealed with Rory about her going off to cover the campaign trail.
You said "Good for you," but you couldn't stop from thinking "But what about me? When do I get my chance?"
You were born here, you grew up here, you got married here. Your life starts here, in this small town. You just don't want it to end here. [Is that really so much to ask?]
You want to be more than just Lane Kim [re: Van Gerbig], a former drummer, a college dropout, a reluctant mother and incidental wife; Stars Hollow resident. The small town girl too petrified by the doubts of others to go after her big city dreams. You want more.
You had a brief and ephemeral taste of more when Hep Alien had its first tour and you couldn't believe how much you got sucked into thinking that it would last, that it was the beginning of the life you always wanted, that it was the start of something big, something more.
. pathos .
Midday, you have a habit of dropping everything to pinch yourself, just to make sure that you aren't dreaming.
You do that sometimes, just to keep yourself from screaming out in frustration. Because you can't risk waking up Steve and Kwan, not when it's taken the wrangling and skill of a ranch hand and nearly forty five minutes to put them down for a nap.
[Wistfully, you tap out the beat to an almost forgotten Smashing Pumpkins song, the desire to hold actual drumsticks and jam out on an actual drum set almost overwhelming]
You love those [your] boys but Zack is on the road and your mother can't be around all the time-for the security of your own sanity- and sometimes you feel so alone in all this.
Sometimes it is really hard for you to remember why, exactly, you said yes. You were sad and lonely without Zack and you certainly missed him. But you never really thought, not once, that this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.
Sometimes you stare at that wedding band on your finger while rinsing out bottles and folding up onesies and wonder how the hell you got here, to this place, as this person.
You take a deep breath and hold it somewhere between your throat and your stomach and pinch yourself one more time.
Before you can even exhale, the baby monitor crackles to life and Kwan makes his presence known. You sigh, resolute, before waving away the invisible remnants of a dream.
.
.
fin.