One more thing about the Moon ... She wobbles!

These days are full. The outside pace of our human tempo may have slowed down, but in the process life feels fuller. Compact in containment, our schedules have shifted. I was in bed before the sun set last night; pooped out. There was a cooler filled with groceries -- which had to be sorted, wiped down, cleaned with the Virus protocol first (thank you, Pete!) -- then, a dinner of red cabbage, apples, slivers of bacon and kidney beans chopped, stirred, cooked and eaten. Face masks are in the making. They too needed preparation: old cotton up-cycled, washed in baking soda and vinegar, and cut based on a pattern from the New York Times. Small hand-stitches are necessary to make the four long ties. I love to hand-stitch but this is a thin strip with teeny tiny stitches. Before, during, and after those things there is this: writing.

Sawyer showed up late-morning yesterday, his face mask and gloves securely in place. I heard Pete outside talking with someone, looked from the window and spotted the young delivery man's blue car. From the other side of the wagon (it's a small home ... a few steps from this side to that) I lifted the ulu curtain, pushed the small window open and called out, "Hi Sawyer!" He stopped counting the cash in his gloved hands and looked up. We chatted.

Leaning into conversation. I love the sound of that and love that it was happening. We were safely more than six feet apart and for a few moments we asked a couple questions of one another, shared a bit of truths and when the young man learned I'd been laying low from fever he commiserated, and then added, "More time for writing." Hmmm. Funny how things turn out. We cannot shop. Sawyer can. I write. Sawyer reads. Connection is made. A wobbly one, but what a movement!

I have been awake, and up for hours already. The left-overs from yesterday's dinner? Breakfast. Pete's tucked into the covers and Pueo (Owl) is making his early morning rounds; bunnies beware. The solitary sound of a car heading down Camano Avenue draws a memory from years long, long ago when there was only one car to drive down Kuli'ou'ou Road. The day has begun.

Mahina, the Moon, has tucked herself behind the tips of the Alders now greening from spring's kiss of sunshine. Tonight when Mahina rises she will be wearing her full and luscious holoku (gown) of brightness. She will hula with a wobble graceful and luscious, entrancing and mysterious. Kolohe (rascal) moon, so many actions and yet? She wears a path that is predictable especially when we notice.

Mahalo Robert Cazimero for your ever-glorious voice. You age, and I see that. I listen and remember too when we were young kids still growing into our ways. And the hula. Ah, that is wobble 'ui. Beautiful.

P.S. For those who listened to my small whistling mele on the email welo (ripple), "My Sweet Pikake Lei" inspiration came thanks to Robert Cazimero. 


Ola Kakou. Have a good one, everybody!