I thought, if I could go talk to this girl, give her a heads up, what would I tell her? I decided: I wouldn’t tell her shit.
I wrote letters to friends down the street I couldn’t visit, and family members across the ocean. I pictured my letters creating a big arching rainbow across the sea. It felt like a special kind of magic, to create something that would travel both time and space; things that felt otherwise out of reach.
Now here we are reeling from the bizarre pace of March. We cycle through this piece of history, that which is framed by the four walls of our homes, but also one that is expanding, like breath as we reach out in empathy through the abandoned streets of the world.
A story of protection and pause in a time of transformation.
If you don’t live in Hawai’i you’ve probably had a pau hana and just didn’t know it. It’s that moment after a long days work where you father with friends for a frosty beverage, or kick your feet up to watch the sunset.
That time the whole world was sent to our rooms.
I have mastered nothing. Not even my ever popular Caesar salad dressing with bacon bits. Not even my oldest, most beloved friendships. Most definitely not mothering, or writing or falling soundly asleep. Like a sentence, I can be rewritten a thousand times, but always saying the same thing: I’m me. Just me. Here. Now. Under the same sun I was born.
I sure love being right all the time. I’m grew up smack dab in the middle of women, my voice, tiny, had to be even louder, my mind, stubborn, even more sure than ever. I was raised to be right. Astrologically? So fucking right all the time. Aquarius and their constant pursuit of social justice. Then I got married and I get to be right in where we should eat tonight, forgetting to buy coffee creamer and the state of our Tupperware drawer. Now as a mom? Do I even need to say it? Always right.
I do this thing. Where I pull way back from people. And, I’m talking about this because i just did it for two weeks over the holidays and I’m somewhat still in it but coming out of it. And, I’ll tell you all this and you might tell me you do it to. It’s probably totally normal.
As little girls we hear fairy tales of true love. As young women we go searching for it. As we age we do more than we ever thought we would to save it. No one teaches us that measurement of marriage is something as deep as it is wide or tall.