In the midst of all the Hawaii recap I need to take a breather. Moi needs to go homehome (as opposed to just home). Those of you who know me will get it, Myself needs to run back to mama, back to my island, back to where I am all me, myself and moi. It’s a quick trip, less than 56 hours. Pathetic. But, it’s enough time to recharge the soul. I can already picture it:
The hour long boat ride will be the first jolt of renewal – crisp salt air, deep green-to-black waves, the roll of the boat as she takes me back to where I belong. Debarking at the wharf will be momentary chaos – how many bags did we bring? Is it all here? Counting and carrying. Assisting and assigning, take these to Maryann please! Walking up the dirt road hill, past the beach (we’ll be back), past the post office and the hotels with their breakfast smells tantalizing and torturous. Into the yard of barking dog and hugs hello. Hello, hello, hello. I am home.
I will resist the urge to run through the house looking for changes. Is my childhood bedroom just the same? What have you done with that wall? Are those curtains new? I can be gone a year, a month, a week and I will still search out the old familiars like a mother wolf protecting her den. I need assurance my life hasn’t changed even though I’m not here to protect it. I am five here. I am thirteen here. I’m not forty-something here. I am a child again.
Later we will forage the foliage, searching for crab apples, wild island rose petals, blackberries and sour clover. I will gorge on the wilderness; let the juices of mother nature run down my neck and sticky my fingers. I will not care if I eat dirt or dead bug. I want to devour it all.
Still later we will sneak to the beach where I can crouch in the coarse sand and search for treasure. I will hunker down and paw the earth for colored bits of glass brought in by the ocean and worn smooth by my precious surf. My fingers will blindly feel for rough edges and sharp corners. If they find any we’ll toss the glass back into the hungry sea where it will marinate more. I will secret away pocketfuls of my island. Like Andy carrying out his cell wall, I will squirrel away my home. Little by little, shell by shell, broken bottle by bottle I will bring me home.
Need to Forget Me