descend

I will follow you

into the icy blue depths

without looking back.

role model

i'm beginning to worry about my forties. though still quite far away, they loom in the distance, like ominous gray clouds threatening to take away the sun filled day.

i've convinced myself that my umbrella to shield me from the depressing downpour of aging is going to come in the form of a forty year old female role model. someone i can look up to, idolize and aspire to be like.

i moved to oahu when i was 24 yrs old. that was seven years long ago. if we're thinking about cells and skin, i'm practically a new person from who i was before.

it was shortly after i moved here that i met jana (pronounced jayna). she was 30, but i would have never guessed it. part of that was my naive youth. at 24, thirty seemed olllllld. part of this may have been that on maui, the only people i hung out with were either my age or my parents' age. i wasn't getting a lot of exposure to the generation right above me. and so, 30 was an age i was in no rush to get to. an age i was afraid to get to actually, because to me, it meant getting to a place where i became settled, routine driven, and dulled down. but jana fell outside of the thirty year old black hole; she was pretty, athletic, funny, fun and she lived a life that i thought was cool. finding out that she was 30(!) was like finding hope for the future me.

now i'm 31, and my life, though much different from when i was 24, is also much the same because i'm still me. even if my skin and cells are not the same, the core of who i am still is. i'm still the same curious, awkward, adventure craving person. and i'm still stumbling anxiously but excitedly through life. i think one thing that scared me about the thirties (besides that it meant i'd be old and that i'd look old) was thinking i'd be a much different person. that somehow, as the years went on, i'd find myself stagnant and aged. gone would be the days of silly fun.

and while i can recognize the irrationality of my fears back then, and realize that whomever i turn out to be at 40, i'll be fine with, because add 10 yrs, 20, or 100, i'm still gonna be me. and even if you add the wrinkles, the gray hair and all the sags, i'm still going to be okay. it still feels a little anxiety provoking and i find myself searching for something safe to hold on to. which i've convinced myself will come in the form of meeting some really cool 40 yr old who's going to give me a glimpse into how the future could look for me. who's gonna give me comfort that it doesn't look that bad. that in fact, it looks pretty darn good.

she sits...

she sits wondering if the years are passing her by.

life becomes a giant swirl. at the end of the day everything is fine. good, actually. and in moments, great. but there is a throbbing. a beating. somewhere deep within the inside of her insides, a pulsation that makes her restless. makes stillness intolerable.

a yearning, that has her searching for some hidden answer she doesn't yet know the question to.

one step

he built her a stair
not a stairway
just a single stair
in just the right spot

on the rocky trail
that day after day
leads her to her bliss
her reprieve
her escape

her step up
was his step up

a silent yet sturdy proclamation
i see you
i hear you
i care for you

and now,
each time i pass it
on my way up and down
(to my own escape, reprieve and bliss)

i can't help but smile
and feel my heart melt for this man

i can't help but smile
and feel my heart melt for love,
romance,

and the silent power
of one single step

tangled

the twisty knots of my emotions
sit in a jumbled mess
lodged somewhere between my throat
and the pit of my stomach

the fine lines wrap tightly
around my heart
and inner organs

reminding me of sugi
caught on a coral head
or perhaps lost in the wind

pulled taut
then snapped back
kinked
and twisted

crumpled into a messy ball
and discarded into the bottom
of an old plastic bucket

laying there
buried
under lead, tackle,
and tiny remnants of dried bait

laying there
covered
in salt and grime