Aloha KPHC -- the week I resigned from my job

The homeless man sits on his sidewalk blanket in front of the closed mom & pop store pouring over some papers and conversing loudly with the voices in his head as we walk by. Chuukese women cross King Street at the pedestrian activated crosswalk, their . colorful appliquéd skits swaying gracefully in the afternoon breeze; Generous Samoan women chuckle and chew their way through KPHC’s Project Zest healthy food demo at Palama Settlement; Walking to my car on Palama Street I pass kids at recess and in May Day rehearsal in the Princess Miriam Likelike Elementary schoolyard where for 11 years we taught health professions students to learn from the children and parents of this unique world gateway community. Down the road, at Princess Kaiulani School, under their signature spreading monkey pod tree, a colorful May Day Court stood in a half circle on the outdoor stage. The mini-King and Queen dressed in royal whites walked with slow dignity across the grass as throngs of relatives with cameras and umbrellas applauded under a hot sun and voggy sky. “Will the families of the King and Queen approach the stage with their Leis of Aloha?” requested the announcer. There was a pause, and then huge men, tiny siblings, and pretty mothers surged towards the stage. One mom, in tight white Capris and high heels, patted her son’s royal cheeks repeatedly with pride, while he looked straight ahead, face impassive, trying to maintain composure. Returning to the 952 parking lot, I received perhaps my last pungent puakinikini lei from the legendary Alice Ramos, and later made sure to consume a piece of her pineapple upside-down cake at the Providers Appreciation Potluck. The remainder of the morning was spent strategizing with Andrea around square formica tables at Lion Coffee warehouse in Waiakamilo. On Friday afternoon, my office is eerily still with no voicemails and few emails, so I settle into the lonely task of sorting through, throwing out or keeping 12 years of files. As if at a wake, I receive calls and visits from a procession of people. In public their voices say one thing, their eyes and hugs another; in my office they question, confide, commiserate, congratulate, and/or cry. I have come down with a cold, the kind that comes when one is letting go. Congestion spins its numbing protective cocoon while inside it feels as if my whole body is crying. All these moments I would normally take for granted are now rarified, precious portraits, fragile fading snapshots to be saved and savored. Wonder what wonders next week will bring?