Almost pau.

Are you allowed to pick your own ʻaumakua? If so, mine is the honu. Not just because I like it; because I feel it.

I suddenly realize the summer has not been a waste. Maybe I didn't get a job, and I have no money. But the best things I've done have been free.

I don't know how I ever could have forgotten that I climbed a mountain, but I am remembering in full force what I conquered, and that alone probably made my summer worthwhile. I felt a calm as I climbed every obstacle the trek had to offer, and my soreness for weeks after was a beautiful reminder of the strength I gained.

I learned not to fight waves but to duck and become enveloped in them.

I have embraced sand on my scalp and in every crevice.

I have swum with blue-fin trevally, yellow tang, moorish idol, triggerfish, parrotfish, Humuhumunukunukuapua'a, wrasses, puffers, eels, octopi, sea cucumbers, butterflyfish, 'ulua, and ... of course, honu.

On Monday, hold me to a promise to call about resuming Tahitian.

I suppose looking at the two-thirds of the summer already gone, it couldn't have been a waste. Because maybe next time I get lost amongst skyscrapers, or think I can't dance another day of Modern, I'll remember that I saw Honolulu from the top of Kaau Crater.

No comments:

Post a Comment