June 17th, 2014
She's calling me home.
Even while I'm in the forest, where the light is dappled and soft she shoots me images.
Sea cliffs and her wild shores, so close I forget the present for just a moment.
But I'm not going home, or not quite yet,
and all my time now is spent preparing for the unknowns of travel.
Wait for me Maui.
Know that when I return I'm yours.
Yesterday was Kalani's birthday and last week was mine. The week before that I returned.
We took the day off just like last week. When Kalani took me out for my birthday breakfast I cried over my coffee and waffles, missing my Yippies, wishing they were at our side. That evening we went out dancing. It was the DJ's birthday too, and at the end of the night someone said, "circle up" and we did, just like we did at YIP. And then someone passed a heartbeat around through our hands and we sang a song and I was thrown back into all the mornings and weeks before. I smiled so hard thinking of our friends all the way across two oceans. They would love it here.
Yesterday one of them called, the first, and I couldn't stop saying, "I love you." I can only describe this mish mash of feelings to that of breaking up, because quite literally that is what this is.
But today, oh today, there are new friends and older friends to be made and made again. Hugs to be shared and conversations made up of long gazes and smiles.
This home is like no other.
When Kalani and I first stepped foot, hand in hand onto the property it was night. It was my first time and the ti leaves loomed higher than me and the banana trees were no longer babies. The orchard was letting off its night time smells, strong and citrus sweet and I couldn't get over the wonder of nearly a year gone past. When I drive down roads all is the same, but here in our yard, the plants tell the whole story of day and night, growth and change. We step into our house and it seems tremendous, and our personal home smell is there. There is so much space, everywhere without 18 other faces. The kitchen counters are clean, and we own pots and pans. Its all a wonder, old and new again and again.
Here at home on Maui the plants are brilliant and exotic, our friend Lucas has even called them erotic with their spillage of plume and fragrance. Our food is fresh and pure just like the people. Everyone is so beautiful and tanned its almost blinding. Individuals are staring me into my eyes when we hug hello and I can't help but think of all the reasons why I left and all of the years I've spent feeling contained in the middle of the vast Pacific. I've been feeling a little silly wondering if all this time maybe it was me all along. Not the place, not the people, but me. Maybe I haven't been ready to meet this place, this community that I call home.
I think this as I take down paintings in my home and move around the feeling of old, turning it into new. I think this as I drive around every curve avoiding pot holes that are engraved into the turning of my wrists. I can see memories of myself here at every age, hitch hiking, riding the school bus, kissing that boy. But ever since I've been back, I've also been surprised a few times by roads that I've never been up, that lead to an old view from a new angle.
And that makes me excited.