I know what you’re thinking. Strange title for the last day on Maui. Hang tight. I’ll get to it. Or them.
I had two choices for my final blog about Hawaii: write about the (exhausting) trip home OR write about getting a Maui tattoo. Both happened in one day. Hmmm. Tough choice. Writing about getting a tattoo at a shop on Prison Street (seriously) seemed too good to pass up.
Thanks to a previous consultation Kisa and I knew (for the most part) where our tattoos were going and what they would look like. I still toyed with the idea of putting something on my foot since my feet take a beating every year on the Just ‘Cause walk. At the last minute, thanks to Kisa’s urging, I decided my hip is more troublesome than my feet. After a few minor design adjustments I was under the needle.
I am not the tattoo fiend an artist would like to see. Before meeting Kisa, I admit, I had virgin skin and I considered any marking on my body a private affair. However, when I lost my calico Chessie my grief was profound. Her death shattered my heart. Kisa convinced me a tattoo would help heal. I didn’t get the connection but it turns out he was right. I poured my grief into the design. I poured my love into the placement. Getting a tattoo of a cat sleeping on my hip was an intensely personal endeavor. It was something for me, myself and moi and no one else. The pain of the needle drew out the hurt in my heart.
Maui was different. Pride and remembrance went before sentiment and sorrow. Doing it for the sake of doing it trumped practicality. It even trumped privacy. I wanted to commemorate my commitment to Just ‘Cause and the fight to end breast cancer. My symbol for Just ‘Cause is the dragonfly. It’s on every tshirt I walk in. I didn’t want a design that screamed for attention but I wanted something that combined the pride of Just ‘Cause and the memory of Hawaii in one design. Hence the dragonfly and plumeria. Front and center. I decided it should be somewhat shown. I’m not a diva. That’s not what I’m about. There is some privacy. It’s personal and it’s perfect.
Where are the balls you ask? In the next room. While I was getting the tattoo treatment a la Leilani Kisa was getting his pain from someone named Robbie Big Balls. You may recognize the name from a book blog on the other side. Since my tat took Leilani all of 45 minutes from start to finish (she probably could have done it with her eyes closed) I had time to hang out with the big balled boys. Kisa’s tattoo is perfect for what he wanted to convey.
Flying home with our pain made for a long flight, but at least I wasn’t thinking about geese or heart attacks and other airplane malfunctions!