1st Week in a crowded paradise

March 13, 2005

The sun is shining in Seattle on this beautiful Sunday morning. It has been a glorious week, but I have never been able to reconcile the seemingly endless days of overcast gloom with the few, fleeting, days of sunshine. I will never call it home again. I have been emotionally detached from this place since I moved back from Maui. I just flew over the ferries crossing Puget Sound, the Narrows bridge spanning the waterways between Tacoma and Gig Harbor, and the majestic Mount Rainier, named Tahoma, home of the Gods, by Native Americans. It is a green, enchanting place from the air. For most of my life I was connected umbilically to this verdant birthplace. But the cord has long since been cut. I just reset my watch to Hawaiian time.

I left a wonderful man at the airport. He was waving from outside the security check as I walked away. Last night I was overcome with anxiety at the thought of leaving him. My heart was already broken when I left my children and my grandchildren, but the thought of leaving Michael was almost more than I could bear. He assures me that the months until he joins me will pass quickly. I know that it will seem that way once I am on that side of time, but from this prospective it appears eternal.

My flight was smooth. There were so few of us on board that each passenger had three seats to himself or herself. The dividing arms were lifted and we all stretched out for a long nap. Flying into Oahu gives you a clear picture of how isolated these islands are from the rest of the world. For hours you see nothing but ocean, then suddenly, miraculously, land appears, and you get the sense that you might have missed the island altogether if the captain had not been paying close attention.

My sweet nieces, Tamara and Rebecca, welcomed me at the baggage claim with kisses and a beautiful, fragrant lei. They said when they first saw me they thought me to be the embodiment of their mothers and all the aunties that they miss so much. I represented the headwaters of their gene pool, if you will. I felt loved and situated. It is amazing to see these two strong, beautiful women, both of whom I have watched grow from babies to adults, fitting so naturally into this new environment.

They took me to Dukes at Waikiki for lunch, and we ate and talked as we watched the surf rolling into the sand. We walked around the International Market for a while then headed to my new home in Ewa Beach (the “w” has a “v” sound in Hawaiian). Our home is actually in Iroquois Point, a navel housing community. I'm not sure how the Iroquois got representation so far from their indigenous lands, but there it is. It is a large, two-story, four-bedroom unit, attached to another unit exactly like it. I met the neighbors that share a wall with us shortly after I got here. A warm, friendly couple with three delightful, tow-headed children, two boys and a little girl, who informed me she was “two and a half.”

Tamara and Rebecca fell asleep shortly after we got here, so I went exploring on Tamara's bike. I found the beach. I know I'll be okay.

March 14, 2005

I woke this morning to the sound of rain on the roof. Given my Northwestern roots, I naturally assume that means the whole day is going to be wet. Not so. The rain stopped and I explored a little more on Tamara's bike. By the time I got back to my writing the sun was breaking through the clouds, but it is still a little cold and windy, especially for Hawaii.

I met with some obstacles during the day. My Internet provider does not function here, so I was not able to submit my online application to Hawaii Department of Education, as planned. I guess I will have to mail it instead. Then I learned first-hand about Oahu traffic and was late for the meeting I had flown here to attend. Rebecca, who has been my transportation since I got here, was so apologetic. No worries, it was an informational meeting with no new information. It was over very quickly. It was pretty lame. I don't think I will be going the Special Education route. It's not really where I want to be. It just sounded so good over the phone.

March 21, 2005


I am lying in my hammock, on this beautiful Monday morning, listening to the sweet sound of the morning doves and the chatter of the finches. Our neighbor, Will, insisted they are sparrows, and Tamara and I didn't argue. We have some awesome neighbors here. My container got here on Thursday, and immediately we got three offers for help unloading it. I unloaded the first third alone, but my progress was blocked by the wall my son, Matthew, had built to stabilize the load. He did such a solid job that my hammer could not budge it. Lance, our neighbor to the left, poked his head in the container as he was leaving for work, and offered to help when he got home, which he did. A wall built with testosterone needs that same element to rip it down.

I took Friday to get more resumes out there, got the needed recommendation from a principal, then signed up for a substitute teacher class. Unfortunately, the class starting this week was cancelled and the next one doesn't start until April ll. I will need a job before then. Got a recommendation from my former boss in Lahaina for an art gallery in Honolulu. I'm going to visit it early this week.

Saturday morning Tamara and I hit the container again (Rebecca was in Maui for the weekend, visiting her Nina and Padrino). By the time we got to the heavy stuff, we had help from Will and another neighbor, Scott. We spent the rest of the day putting the futon together (only one call to Michael), unpacking boxes, and arranging the house so it looks like a home. Will helped me put my bed together and hang the hammock.

On Sunday after church Tamara and I went to China Town in Honolulu while we waited for Rebecca's plane to come in. We both bought those black cotton Chinese babydoll shoes that were very popular in the 70's. Then we sat in the courtyard and ate delicious Hong Kong dumplings and drank bubble tea. We were in the company of about 20 elderly Chinese gentlemen. No English spoken there. There was a Chinese teashop going out of business near the courtyard. The proprietor was from Taiwan and was selling a nice Taiwanese tea tray, like the one my family in Taiwan used, for only $5. I could not resist. Tamara bought a beautiful jade Buddhist prayer bracelet.

We picked up Rebecca at the airport and she and I came home. Tamara headed out to the North Shore to meet some friends. She wanted me to come with her, but I wasn't feeling well. I told Michael on the phone later, “If someone says 'go to the beach' to me, and I say no, there is something seriously wrong. I am much better today. Rebecca did not get to stay home and enjoy the new surroundings. She and her youth group had already committed to sleeping in cardboard boxes last night, presumably so they would be empathetic enough to go feed the homeless today.

I have been a Hawaiian for a week now. I don't have my Hawaiian driver's license yet, though, and my son, Peter, tells me that I can't be Hawaiian until I have it. I guess I wasn't Hawaiian when I lived in Maui because I didn't have a car.

Moving to Hawaii

March 6, 2005

It is hard to believe that I am finally going. I may not believe it fully until I actually board the plane and take off for Oahu. I am nervous, excited, happy, sad, and assorted variations of all of these feelings. Things have fallen into place so quickly that I have not had time to properly process all this. I am leaving the place of my birth, leaving a beautiful home, my family, the love of my life, and a secure job, for the warmth of the Hawaiian sun and a chance to follow my muse. I am thankful that everyone is encouraging me to do this and a little disappointed that no one is begging me not to leave. I see the plum and cherry trees blooming and Mount Rainier looming on the horizon and I know that these familiar sight will now be a place I visit, but will not call home. I am wondering what homing instinct was planted in my soul when I lived in Maui. What calls me back? Is it the sun, the surf, the Southern Cross in the night sky? Or is the legendary music that plays across the islands like a giant harp? I miss the sound of Pidgin English, miss palm trees and red cotton soil. I miss flowers that can be strung into leis and bougainvillea arbors. I miss the West Maui Mountains more than I miss the tall, snowcapped mountain that mothered me from birth.

March 8, 2005

It is a beautiful Tuesday morning. The sun is just lighting up Commencement Bay, and the giant, empty freighter looks peaceful, content to wait for a load to some other part of the world. I kept watching on Saturday for my container to leave port, bound for Oahu. It must have snuck by while I was sleeping. I had a dream last night that it was lost at sea. If I believed in omens, I would be worried. If I believed in omens I would be even more worried that the jeweled egg our wedding rings are in has fallen apart, crushed by the good intentions of my husband. He picked it up, as carefully as his strong fingers would allow, to check the loose hinge. When it crumbled in his hands he roared like a wounded lion. He was still grieving for his much loved home. It was too much to lose this icon of his love. I am so relieved that his temporary home while he waits to move with me has such an impressive view. I am joining him in Fremont for lunch today. It is a testimony to his unselfish nature that he wants to take me to sushi, not his favorite, but mine.

There is so much to do this week. So many people that I want to see and hug goodbye. I spent the evening with Patty and Dave last night. Their grief for Rocky seems to have become more manageable, still raw, but not such a gapping wound. I wonder if that process of acceptance brings a fresh brand of grief. It was hard to say goodbye. I tried to convince Dave that a trip to Oahu to see me should not be discounted. I don't think he was buying it.

March 10, 2005

I took my baby girl out for her 27th birthday lunch today. She wanted Indian food, so we went to Gateway to India, the best Indian restaurant in the Northwest, as far as Michael and I are concerned. We had a special time, talking, eating, and just a little bit of crying when I thanked God for the special gift of my daughter. We went shopping for jeans after lunch and we bought matching, stripped jeans, me size 10 and she size 12. We have were not always so close in size or spirit. I'm so proud of the woman she has become.

This evening Michael and I went out to the Parkway for beer and cider with Chris, my car pool buddy, and his sister, Sara, and her husband, Tang. I am going to miss Chris, who is going to Georgia, the country, with the Peace Corp. 

March 12, 2005

It is 4:43 am, the day before I embark on my life journey. I am not ashamed to say that I am scared about this move. I liken this point in my life to swinging from one trapeze to another. There has to be a point where you let go of one and grab the next. This is it, and it is hard to sleep through that kind of transition.

I spent the day yesterday at my mother's, fixing her breakfast and coaxing her to take a short walk. It is difficult sometime to have a long conversation with her. She is very cognizant, but she loses her train of thought very easily, even more so than I. She is still an amazing woman. God grant that I can someday be half her equal.

My sweet son, Peter, flew in from Boise to see me off tomorrow. I sometimes wonder how my children turned out so exceptional with such a flighty mother. The one thing I did teach them, more by words sometimes than example, was the power of choice. They have all made mostly good choices in life. We met Edward and Rebecca for dinner at Olive Garden. When we hugged goodbye I promised them quality time in Oahu when they come to visit me.

Matthew, Peter, and I are all going down to Vancouver to visit Gigi this morning. She has bladder cancer. This may be our last chance to see her. She has been a great blessing in our lives, and I have postponed making this trip too long. I may have postponed it again because there is so much for me to do still, but my persistent husband, recognizing how important this will be for me in the long run, insisted to the point of irritation. I will be grateful to him for that gift for a long time.