This wasn’t the first time.

I had been here before, but only for what seemed to be a moment. I was there long enough to breathe the air, long enough to walk the streets and see the people I had only ever seen in small pictures, accidentally caught on camera by tourists. So why did it feel so much like home?

I wasn’t exaggerating by any means. The flight was long; it was tiring. But it was a small hassle to be where I wanted to be.

Good morning, Seoul.

I sat by the window during the flight, anxiety whisking away with the clouds that enveloped the wings. The sun was on the other side of the plane, and while the light brought the heat, I wished I could have seen it. Only a few moments more, and this part of the journey would be over.

The seat belt light overhead suddenly with a short ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Incheon Airport. Local time is 11:35am and the temperature is 79 degrees. Thank you for flying with us.”

I sat upright. My drowsy friend shook himself awake before peering out the window just past me.

This was the feeling I couldn’t exaggerate. I felt no fear. I felt no worry. I felt like I had been welcomed back to a place I was supposed to remember but couldn’t for some reason.

It was time for a new adventure, and this was day one.

I had arrived.