Waves of Us

35 | state capitol

I wake before the sun rises in the sky and rush out onto the balcony of Emmie's apartment to watch as the day rises along with me. The sky drenches itself in a warm hue, casting down on me with rays of lemon that tickle my skin.

For those lonely minutes where it feels like I'm the only one awake in the world, I think about everything that's led me to this moment. From jumping off the boat into the vast, blue waves when I was a child and encouraging my brother to join me; learning hula for the first time at the pavilion by my old townhouse, and seeing the flowing, wavy hair of the old women showing me how to move my hips and raise my hands; finally seeing a little girl like me in a movie and feeling like I was real for once, that the world would know people like me.

There's a brief moment where I remember the first time a haole boy told me I would never be loved because my hair was too frizzy and my nose too wide. That I would be stuck here on this island and forgotten like everyone else, only to be used as a way to make other people happy as all places like Hawai'i are seen—never as a place with real people experiencing real life and real pain.

The sun crests above the tops of the trees and spreads its light across the land, and I'm reminded once again of the beauty of this place I call home. Though there may be those who seek to take it away from us, our home is intrinsically part of who we are, and that's something that can never be stolen.

Emmie joins me on the balcony wrapped in a white fluffy robe, her hair stretched up into a small bun on the top of her head. While her hair has grown since we first reunited at Calum's party which now seems like an entire lifetime ago, little pieces that are still too short have fallen back down.

Staring at her now, basking under the morning light like a sunflower, I think about our pure friendship. Even though we've had many disagreements over the years, and even more people questioning how we stay as close as we've been for as long as we have, she brings a sense of comfort that comes from no other.

"Today's the big day," she says.

I clasp my mug of coffee so tightly in my hand that it nearly burns. "Kind of feels unreal. I've never done anything like this before."

"First time for everything." She casts a glance out, admiring the same view I've been hypnotized with for the past half hour. "The only thing that could make today better was if Jem was here."

I almost called her last night because I wanted to let her know what we were doing, but I couldn't be sure she'd pick up the call so her name went dark on my screen.

"There wasn't a day that went by while I was in Seattle that I didn't think about this place," she remarks thoughtfully. "You know how exciting it is when you run into someone that's from here? You don't even know them or anything about their life and you already feel like they understand a part of you no one else can."

I'm a very small piece of a puzzle, I'm aware. A mere thread in the tapestry of a history so complex and vibrant that I still don't know all the facets of it. But I use every bit of strength I have left in me to prove that a voice matters, people matter, and my home means something.