Aloha Nui Loa

When we finally sat down to dinner last night after a fun virtual cocktail hour on the Houseparty app with family, my mom suddenly blurted out “Here I sit, broken-hearted, paid a nickel and only farted.” This is a common occurrence—a saying comes out of nowhere and I have no choice but to ask for an explanation. “What?” I asked, already laughing at whatever the answer was going to be. I learned that that particular saying originates from the era of paying a nickel to access and use a public toilet. I also learned that my Mom used to refuse to pay this price for her kids and would send my older siblings under the stall door. By the time I was born, I guess bathrooms were free because I have no recollection of ever doing this. Child number five gets all the perks. “But what does the saying mean? Paying for something to no avail?” I asked. “Yeah, I guess so.” my Mom conceded. “It’s just one of those sayings.” I still don’t know how it applied to us sitting down for dinner.

The comedic material in this house is rich and will someday magically turn into a Netflix series, mark my words. It’s like Everybody Loves Raymond but only if it were written and created by Larry David and Amy Sedaris—a little off and a whole lot funny. Ok, yes, a lot off. “So here you are, Steph, stuck at home on a Friday night with your parents” my Mom joked. “I know, it’s like being in high school all over again” I said. Last night was the first night in three weeks that the kids weren’t here. Off with their Dad for the weekend, it took at least three hours for my jaw to finally unclench. Our living situation during these COVID-19 times has made co-parenting a challenge. Decisions were made neither lightly nor easily. Ideal? No. Sometimes, however, we have to exchange the idealistic for the realistic in the name of sanity and wellbeing. Far easier said than done.

Since moving back from Kaua`i almost two years ago, I have enjoyed being able to spend so much time with these familial treasures. We came back because this world is where we belong and my parents are very much the roots of this world. Their unwavering support over the ups and downs of the past couple years has given me both courage and strength. Through cancer, a separation, heart attacks, and a pandemic we remain smiling and laughing through it all. All of that is what it is, we may as well find humor in it.

Unable to sleep last night, I landed on Facebook at 3 a.m. and scrolled through the nighttime posts of my friends hunkering down on Kaua`i. I felt as though an invisible ti leaf lei connected my 6-hour-ahead world to theirs. They are as scared there as we are here; pandemics happen in paradise too. Though I left Kaua`i behind, the aloha spirit and the scent of puakenikeni in the air on rainy mornings have never left me. I learned back then the importance of living with more aloha, a process that is still ongoing for me despite having left. When I connected to that world during the sleeplessness of last night, I felt the aloha and smiled as I drifted back to sleep. With aloha, we will move forward on this side of the globe in the best way we can. Aloha kākou, aloha nui loa. A hui hou.