Sunday, January 27, 2008

weather report

"Hey Ma, guess what?". It's Sunday morning, post-yoga class and I'm sitting in Coffee Talk when my cell phone rings and Kalei's name appears on the screen. "What?" I respond bravely, thinking, "oh, God, what next?". "It's snowing!" she replies. "I was doing homework and when I looked out my window I noticed it wasn't raining properly. Then I heard people saying, "It's snowing!", and now everyone's outside in it. Oh, I see Ana out there...ok, Mom, I just wanted to tell you that. Bye!". It's the first time this girl has seen snow fall from the sky, and she called to share the moment with me. How very cool. The excitment was contagious: perhaps my voice rose, because I saw a few folks nearby in the this Hawaii coffee shop smiling, perhaps recalling a lovely snowfall in their past, or one they hoped to experience in the future.

There is nothing like seeing your first snowfall, and to those who grow up in the tropics, the experience can be magical, miraculous, and fearsome. Many years ago I traveled to the East Coast with a co-worker and friend from Wai'anae, and I'll never forget the amazement in her face as she watched snow sift from the sky, lining the lawns and coating the gray tree branches. She was afraid to venture out into it, preferring to sit bundled up inside toasty and warm at the window, watching it fall for hours. More recently I was in Washington DC with a delegation of people from the Marshall Islands when a surprise springtime snowstorm hit. Some of the visitors simply stayed in their hotel, even passing up visits to the Congressional representatives. Others, notably the younger ones, simply had to "go out and explore the astonishment of living", as one of their wise and poetic elders put it. And when I got back home, the college parent's email network was a-buzz with the news of calls from kids about the snowfall--apparently an unusual occurance in this part of Northern California. Expected or unexpected, perhaps it is the job of the young, to help us elders see our truly astonishing world afresh.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

the illusion of order

ok, I'm back!

Kalei left yesterday early in the morning to return to her California college. We dropped her off at the airport running a low fever and toting 2 large duffle bags, the one she brought home, plus another holding a long skateboard from Jonah and large futon quilt from Grandma. Today, mercifully, is Saturday, and I found myself cleaning up Kalei's room, putting clothes back into boxes in our 3rd small bedroom, aka the storage room. In the process, I decided to empty out and store in one box Kalei's many bags, totes and knapsacks, her personal artistic creations over the past several years, some of which she pulled out and used while at home over the holidays. Some are unique and beautiful, others ratty and worn, and all were full of small treasures, rubbish, toiletries, pens and the occassional contraband item. I salvaged the disposable contacts lenses, coins and anything that looked like a treasure---as we have a specific request not to throw out any found metal objects. These discoveries revealed no new informations to me, and yet I still felt small shock waves hit my body when I came upon items she would not have wanted me to find. Yet, for the first time, I felt this strange calm knowing that there is nothing more I can or need to do about this now. She is a young adult, making some poor choices to be sure, but they are hers to make. We've delivered our messages, and she knows full well what we think and value and fear. I know for sure that we are a powerful voice inside her head,and try to have faith that in time it will become something she doesn't have to run from. Recalling how I would have responded only a year ago, I felt relieved to be here at this point in time, and not back in the midst of those struggles. Overall, this girl is doing well, still a rebel and renegade, still making mistakes and suffering some consequences, but more successful in school and happier than ever with herself, her friends, and yes, even with us. She stayed around the house quite a bit and we spent an unprecendented percentage of harmonious time together this holiday season. I am sad she is gone, and have trouble imagining not seeing her till the end of May. Yet, as all the books predict, it is good to have the home back, to be sitting in a puddle of peace and reflection, to be back to bloging. So, on this day after her departure, I found myself sitting amidst boxes and debris, weaving a weird kind of closure ritual, re-ordering our home by organizing her things, working within my limited parental sphere of influence, and thus creating some small illusion that perhaps I can bring a bit of order to her brave and chaotic young life.

Friday, January 4, 2008

full nest for now

full house, full heart, no time to blog, back soon.