Guided by Gyu (Archangel Michael),
I made the decision to go to Los Angeles.
I told my family,
“I have something I absolutely need to go to LA for.”
That night, I sat in front of my computer and planned the trip.
Flights.
A hotel.
A rental car.
Every choice was made together with Gyu.
I booked exactly what he indicated.
At one point, I almost complained:
“Why isn’t the outbound flight nonstop?
Why do I have to transfer in Texas?”
But I held it back.
This trip was about trust.
And even this middle-aged woman was trying to grow.
Departure was the next day.
A small trip—three nights, four days—using the weekend.
It was my first time traveling alone.
I packed everything into two carry-on bags.
My mother said,
“Isn’t that heavy? Why not use a suitcase?”
“I’ll be fine. I can carry it,” I said, and left it as it was.
The next morning.
My eldest son—still in elementary school at the time—saw me off in tears.
That alone almost made me cry.
In the taxi to the airport, a familiar voice surfaced inside me:
What am I doing? Leaving my family and going to LA alone?
Am I serious?
But that day, another part of me took the wheel—
the part that was trying to believe this mattered.
At the airport, the moment I walked through the automatic doors,
a smiling man—maybe staff—called out to me.
“Which airline? Where are you headed?”
Before I realized it, my check-in was done.
I hadn’t gone to a counter.
I hadn’t done anything myself.
I didn’t even have time to wonder where the counter was.
All that remained was security.
Huh. There really are kind people like that, I thought,
as I headed toward the gate.
Then I saw the plane through the window.
And suddenly, the tension hit.
I’m really going to LA.
Alone.
Or… maybe not alone.
Everyone is here.
At the very least, Gyu (Michael)
and Grandpa Saiki (one of my guardians) are with me.
I chose to believe that.
The sense of presence was strong.
A deep, unmistakable feeling of safety.
I boarded without trouble and arrived at my layover in Texas.
While waiting for the next flight, I wandered around the gate area—
the restroom, a snack shop—
and finally, the weight of my bags became unbearable.
I should have brought a suitcase.
When I tried to buy one at a shop, Gyu said,
“No. Not that one.”
Instead, I was somehow made to buy a light-blue horse plush toy.
I muttered,
“Why on earth am I buying this?”
But I bought it anyway.
This was a trip where I had decided to trust.
After leaving the shop, Gyu said, “That way,”
and guided me toward the back of the gate.
It was dark.
No one was walking there.
My bags were heavy.
I complained silently as I walked.
And then—
a single shop, standing alone.
Inside, no customers.
And just one suitcase.
Slightly larger than the ones I’d seen earlier.
Ah. That’s it.
When I bought it, the woman working there said,
“No one’s here—go ahead and rearrange your bags inside.”
She even cut off all the tags with scissors.
It had been worth walking all the way there.
I placed the blue horse gently inside the suitcase.
On the flight from Texas to LA,
I became overwhelmingly sleepy the moment I sat down.
I usually can’t sleep well on planes,
but I was out before takeoff.
When I woke up, I felt refreshed.
…Wait.
The plane wasn’t flying.
We were still on the ground.
I checked the time.
Two hours had passed.
I looked around.
Everyone else looked exhausted.
We still hadn’t taken off.
Then the captain announced that heavy rain had caused severe congestion,
and that we had received special permission to fly a route normally not used.
That would help shorten the delay, he said.
So that’s why, I thought.
And I was grateful I’d slept through it.
Once we finally took off,
most passengers went straight to sleep.
I didn’t.
Almost there.
LA.
I watched the clouds, the Earth below—
I’ve always loved that view.
But after a while, something felt wrong.
The Earth looked… strange.
What was I seeing?
At first, I thought it was farmland.
But it stretched endlessly.
Red.
Too red.
White lines.
White squares.
As I kept watching, I started to feel sick.
It looked like the Earth’s skin had been stripped away,
raw and exposed.
And we’d been flying over it for more than thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes by plane
is an enormous distance.
This is all man-made, right?
Then a word surfaced in my mind:
Oil field.
Oil…
Seriously?
All of this, for oil.
I was shocked.
I had never imagined the Earth could look this wounded.
This wasn’t a normal flight route, was it?
Why was I being shown this?
A lesson, maybe.
After nearly forty minutes,
the landscape finally returned to something that looked like Earth again.
Since we were already on an unusual route,
I kept watching all the way to LA.
A triangular lake with an island—
a sacred place?
I wanted to go someday.
Mountains.
So vast.
America is huge.
Finally, we arrived in LA.
We were much later than planned.
I rushed to pick up the rental car.
The man at the rental company was unusually kind.
The moment I got into the car,
he ran into the road and stopped traffic for me.
“Okay! You’re good to go!”
That kind of smile.
Sir—
Can I at least set my navigation?!
Cars were waiting.
I panicked.
I pulled out, trusting Gyu.
Night.
Heavy traffic.
Sweaty palms.
The gyu sensation guided me toward a freeway.
That’s not right.
I knew the area roughly.
That freeway led the opposite direction.
But I followed it anyway.
Anxiety spilled out.
Gyu, You picked the hotel, remember?
It’s in Redondo Beach.
This goes toward Santa Monica.
I didn’t even call for late check-in—
And then—
Silence.
The connection cut.
You abandoned me?!
I exited, pulled over, set the navigation myself,
and drove to the hotel.
In my room.
Alone.
Outside, darkness—
waves,
and the cries of seals.
Sudden, crushing loneliness.
I couldn’t stay inside.
I drove to the beach.
Everyone was there with someone.
I was the only one alone.
I wanted to go home.
I bought a giant bag of popcorn
and returned to the hotel.
When I opened my suitcase—
There it was.
The light-blue horse.
So this was for tonight.
That night,
I slept holding the horse.
Frustrating—but
I was glad it was there.
