i think we have a place to live in kauai-
I am whispering these words, a little scared to hope too hard or shout them out loud, lest they not come true. I know enough about life to expect disappointment; I know enough about life to expect miracles. So I whisper. And we’ll see which way my knowings go and if this home rings true.
Up in the hills.
Trees, upon trees, upon trees in the jungle and leaves.
Emerald. Verdant. Grass. Kelly. Lime. Luscious green.
A yard for the sun loving dogs and finicky outdoor cat. Frodo, Samwise, and Shire- they are my circus of fur and chaos who anchor me when life goes sideways.
A quick run to the magic trail that goes through stream and bamboo and machete marked obstacle course to the secret falls where my brother waits; all I have to do is stand on old stone to hear him speak. All will be well he says, when he’s not busy wielding a pirate patch and bottle of rum and mischievous glint intended to make me laugh at the absurdity of life.
Time changes pace when you’re in transition. Shifting from one life to the other, sliding doors on a speeding subway where one minute you’re at grand central, the next the village, and if you don’t hang on and pay attention to which way you’re going, you may miss your stop.
The train is busy this week; I get off, I get on, sometimes I wait for my stop, others I stop and wait.
Packing and cleaning and sorting and giving away.
Working and writing and thinking about how I’m not writing- then remembering all words come in their own time.
Super bombs and war mongering and giant missiles and egotistical displays of force- and my brain spins, spins, spins amidst the capability of humanity’s hate.
Make it stop, will it ever stop, when will it stop. I scream and bewilder.
Except I know my stop.
Kauai, Kauai, Kauai.
She’s been calling for over a year. When will you come, she asks?
She tells me there is a whole other life waiting. She tells me I’ll finally have room to breathe, to be the peace. She tells me tales of shamans and wood spirits and ancient alchemy found in hidden passages of lush valleys whose wisdom echos for miles when you listen. Then wonder.
I’m getting there as fast as I can, I say.
But I have to finish one life before I can begin another.
Today one trip to the city dump; 3 stops at consignments and donations; several dressers standing dusted and packaged- ready to show then sell. Clean as a whistle inside where trinkets and junk and papers once lay.
I didn’t know what it would be like to lose one life to gain another. How hard it would be to take the whole of all I own down to quarters and fifths and pints and eighths of a shipping container. Or how freeing it would be to let go and discover just how many things one can life without.
I don’t always know who or where or what I’ve been these last few weeks.
But I think, I hope, I pray, I believe- (quietly, because it’s a tiny seed needing dandelion wishes and sunshine daydreams to nurture its tender possibility)– that the next step in this journey is about to imprint itself. And what once was just a wisp of a dream and a nebulous leap of faith, has taken one more step to becoming a reality of real.
A new home.
Among the malachite tree tops. Where the ocean is but a breath away, and my mermaid has all the room she needs to sing free.