Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Seventeen days ago, I moved to Hawaii. It struck me yesterday, when I first held my Hawaii Driver's License in my hand, that I'm not leaving. This is a permanent thing.
I live at the center of the Ring of Fire. Life roils like the sea. Clouds blow in, pour down rain, and then pass in a few minutes. Trees spring up in a few weeks, bear fruit, then die and decay. Everywhere rust and ruin, but also new life, strong life, pushing through the rich remnants of the old.
I like it here.
Our cute little cinder-block house is nearly unpacked and mostly in order, but my internal clock isn't reset yet--I'm still surprised by how early in the day it is whenever I check the time. In my crock pot I'm cooking pork ribs with purple sweet potatoes (grown by a neighbor), soy sauce, and garlic instead of my habitual barbecue sauce. We'll eat it tonight with sticky rice instead of bread. Some old things came with me, like my beautiful antique wind-up clock which, even after two weeks of heat and jostling inside a shipping container, still chimes the hours faithfully. It makes the place sound like home. But now instead of piano practice, I hear the children play their new ukuleles in the afternoon (we'll get back to piano as soon as I figure out how much we can afford for a teacher).
Aloha everyone! I'm off to build some bookshelves so I can unpack the rest of the books!
Posted by Rebecca J. Carlson at 12:28 PM