*Note: This was written in June of 2020. I stopped blogging at the time. Now, three years later, I’m hitting the publish button.
The deceptive sun of the northwest burrows through my hoodie and sweatpants, seeking approval, at least in my eyes. I want to love it because I remember that feeling in May – the first hot day in Seattle when thermometers flirt with 80 degrees and denizens flock to any outdoor scene with as little cloth covering their skin as possible. It is a feeling of enthrallment, of hope and anticipation for the two months of the year when the upper left can dig through their basements for that bin labeled “summer clothes” and restock their closets. The skies are blue, the mountain is out, the sun lasts forever, not dipping below the Olympics until well after 9 p.m. I want to love it, and a nostalgic smile graces my countenance.
To the new me, this is winter. Unless I’m in the sun, my extremities stiffen and feel like cold lava rock on a rainy December Maui morning. Not frozen, just chilled. Back in August, when 97 degree heat-waves enveloped my skin, I cooked, but loved absorbing the heat. It made my body feel fantastic, and yes, I miss it. Less than 48 hours removed, I missed it.
This is the last transition in my whole experience. I have returned to my home as I left it. I have changed, my family has changed, my friends have changed, and in very intense ways, my city has changed.
I touched down at Seatac in the midst of a pandemic. In Maui, we had 120 total COVID cases when I left, just about all of which are recovered. Our island is reopening (to itself, not to the outside world). King County has 8318 cases, and each day, Washington state reports more new cases than Maui has had throughout the course of the pandemic. I know the numbers aren’t perfectly accurate, and population etc., but they are subject to the same variables.
A few days ago, Governor Inslee required by law masks to be worn in all public indoor places, and all public outdoor spaces where six feet of separation could not be attained. All this to slow a pandemic, save lives, and get back to normal sooner rather than later.
I touched down in Seatac in the midst of civil unrest, protests, riots, outrage and nation where Black people are still modernly lynched by racists. Our president emboldens racists for his own purposes and allows immigrant children to be separated from their parents before being placed in cages. Americans are either examining their conscience, or are in desperate need of such an inventory. Hatred still exists, and in fact, I believe it will always exist. What shouldn’t exist is the belief that it is acceptable in our lives, in our society. So we protest. Protests also occurred in Maui, but not nearly with the same emphasis as they have on the mainland. We protest, and we must also vote. The islands remained quite peaceful in spite of all that is currently transpiring in the world. I miss it.
To be clear, this is not a rant on the Northwest or the Mainland or my hometown. This is not a lament for Maui or a wish that I was back there. I stand by my decision to move back, and am beyond thrilled to be reunited with my family and friends. What I would like to do is acknowledge that there is one more stage left in this journey. You can never return from an adventure and expect life to proceed as usual. If you expect that, then what was the purpose of your adventure? I will proceed through the next days, weeks, months and years knowing that I’ve added to my person by living in Hawai’i and hoping that it enhances this community and other communities I encounter throughout my life.
Once again, here it goes. Once again, imua.