hawaii 2024

i went to hawaii for the first time in 11 years

when i was little, it was like a second home for me

traveled there four times in seven years

we made a place for ourselves between the palm trees & the shoreline

i didn’t know what to expect this time,

i didn’t know how i would handle it if everything wasn’t exactly the same as before

i remembered auntie nadine’s house like the back of my hand

the coral, green patterns of the couches in the living room,

surrounded by wooden bowls & decorations draped in leis

the big white kitchen, with the granite countertops

the long light brown table, surrounded by cousins

piled high with snacks of sweet bread and school kine cookies

and butter crackers and smelly crackers that no one liked but mom

the big white leather couches in the family room

enough room to sprawl across and rest after coming home from the beach

the leather would feel cold against my skin, warmed by the ever-glowing sun

it had to still be the same

because it already was different

our first trip in 11 years

our first trip without nana

just me and mom and jacob

when we arrived, i soaked everything in around me. lucky for me, i only know hawaii by its locals, and that’s the only way i can imagine it. as we drove, i remembered these pieces – how “rundown” everything felt, not because it was dying, but because it was lived in – storefronts and restaurants spending generation after generation with the families around it. my mom pointed out all the places she used to go with her family – for breakfast and for baby showers and for birthday parties.

that’s a lot of what this trip was, remembering the pieces

how they fit together, what the old ones were,

seeing where the new ones are

when we got to makule road, i breathed a sigh of relief

that auntie nadine’s house was a piece that remained

same couches, same table, same salt air smell

but there weren’t as many cousins around

everyone was too busy being grown up

spread between other islands and the mainland

we celebrated with the ones who were there

pouring ourselves over shave ice

and searching for sea turtles on the north shore,

catching up on so many years,

spilling stories & stuffing our faces

with banana pancakes and portuguese sausage

loco mocos and coco puffs

mochi donuts and mango smoothies

one day, my mom and everett and i walked along the zoo wall,

looking at paintings from local artists

and i saw one that looked just like a story that nana and i made

about a little girl making leis with her nana tutu

the painting had three girls playing in the corner

me, mom and nana

i bought the painting, my first adult souvenir

this is how i would remember her

in the sweet but sentimental act of being home without her

but the next day, i woke up and my mom was crying

aching in the space between the old and new pieces

and i watched in awe of her as she taught me again

how to carry the joy and suffering in both hands,

and call all of it necessary, beautiful, holy

and i longed for nana to be here

to hold both of our hands in the process, make the weight a little lighter

to take us dancing and watch me try korean barbecue and hawaiian stew

for her to know me as i am now, and not just as who i was

because deep down i knew hawaii would never be the same

there may never be a full table at auntie nadine’s house again

but the thought of continuing to grow up there

to go back with tony and my dad

to visit my brother in his new house on oahu

to bring my kids to ko’olina

to teach them to swim in the lagoon

and collect seashells from the rocky sand

to show them st. joseph’s where my mom used to go to school

to show them her childhood home in waipahu

that’s my favorite dream of all

and i know it’s always been nana’s too

my family is from hawaii. we grew up in the place carved especially for us between the palm trees & the shoreline. my family’s hearts and homes are what make the islands a paradise.

sorry not sorry you’ll never have a vacation as good as mine

laid out on swap meet beach towels

while your cousin snorkels over parrotfish

fingers sticky with malasada sugar

listening to your auntie sing while reminding everyone there’s plenty of rice in the pot

thank you nana, for giving us the gift of your home

for still being a part of everything we do

i promise i will hold every single piece as long as i can

and will tell you all about the new ones one day

some of the old