my parents' love story...is best told by my mom. my version will do it no justice.
but still. i want it written down.
my mother...she met my dad when she was near my age now (late 20's, early 30's). she was divorced with a young son. she had no money. she had little more than nothing. after she found her husband cheating on her, she left quietly. told him she was going. then did the dishes. folded the laundry. made his dinner and even his lunch for the next day. and walked away.
when she and my dad met, she was living in a tent in a field.
my father...he moved to maui in the early 70's with nothing more than a backpack and $20. he carried the weight of his recent divorce and a promise never to settle again. he was younger than i am now... he was a viet nam vet with stories he still, to this day, will not tell.
the meeting...
they met at a party.the story goes like this...
my dad saw my mom getting hit on by a pushy guy. it was obvious she was uncomfortable. so he swooped in to save her. he said something to her in japanese, still new to the island and unaware of the difference between local japanee and japanee-japanese. i don't think she understood what he said.
regardless. they hit it off.
time went by.
days turned into weeks, months, years.
(this is the part of the story where i shake my head at my dad and say "you were such a player")
during this time, my parents fell somewhere between friends and lovers. (depending on the moment). they were a series of push and pull. with a series of other people in between.my dad stayed committed to his promise not to settle down. my mom, lived her life.
she tells me that she knew early on that she loved him... she always reiterates that he was one of the only men that could make her laugh. her heart stayed open to him, but as a single mother trying to get by, romance and love seemed frivolous at the time. she kept her focus on making ends meet and raising her son. that in itself took up most of her time.
despite all that lay in between, there was, in my mind, an invisible rope that tied them together. that somehow, someway, always had them coming back to one another.
a walk on the beach...
(this is my favorite part of the story)
i would be lying if i were to say this was the turning point in their relationship. truth is. it was before this moment that my dad figured out that my mom was the woman for him. but whenever i retell this story i usually say
it was in this moment he realized just how much he loved her
this scene takes place in laparouse. evening time. i imagine the sun is setting and the sky is a brilliant orange. they're at the beach.
it is my mom, my dad and my brother. they go off on their own to collect firewood. my mom walks on the dirt. and suddenly, unexpectedly, sinks in. she is swallowed by heat and an immense pain that she describes as a thousand red ants biting her. her heart beats frantically. she tries to get out of the sand but she can't. she calls out for help.
necessary background information:
someone who came before must have built a fire on the beach, then attempted to put it out by covering it with sand. however, instead of putting the fire out, they uknowingly created an underground fire pit approximately 3 feet deep and 6 feet wide. one that was not evident, until my mother fell into it.
back to the suspense
my dad hears her screams and comes running. comes in for the rescue. she is screaming in pain. everytime she tries to pull herself out, she falls deeper in, getting more burned. it is an invisible fire. only heat. and had my dad not responded to the terror in her voice, he might not had known how dire the situation was.
here's the gnarly part
and so, he reaches into the pit. he grabs my mother's hand to pull her out but the skin from her wrist to her forearm, due to the burns, comes off in his hands. she falls back in.he tries again and again and finally gets her out.
they drive to the hospital. the whole way my mom tries to stay calm. she starts telling my dad lists of things he will need to do the following day. reminds him of a birthday party my brother is going to. tells him what clothes to dress him in. where the present is.
they arrive to the hospital. it sinks in just how injured she is... her feet are burnt so badly they need to take skin grafts from thigh. there is some concern of whether or not she will survive. she stays for six weeks. the recovery process is immense, but of course, she survives.
this is the part where is like to say
my dad realized in that moment that if he were to lose my mom, he wouldn't know what to do. that life without her would not be one worth living.
several years later they have me. another year following, my sister.
i grow up never knowing my parents not to love one another. never seeing them anything less than a united front, even at times when they disagreed.
i never knew them as they were before the fire.all i have are the stories. the stories that led them to each other. to me. to my sister. to life as i have always known it.
as a child i still remember the tenderness of the white scars on my mom's arms and feet. they took forever to heal. i remember softly rubbing them and making her tell me the story of how she got them over and over again.
to this day i am always cautious about properly putting out out fires on the beach. though i am forever grateful on some level for the one that played a crucial role in the making of my life.
