A Sidewalk or a Highway

Walking down the fan felt like Kaneohe and it felt like a certain familiarity that is both here and there. It reminded me of taking a bus up when the pali was broken -- driving for an hour, getting off at a stop that sounded close, and walking two miles or so to get to Kinsey’s house. That walk was so nice I almost didn’t want it to end. It was like when you drive around aimlessly but you have a direction and while that direction is so far away and you’re exhausted because you’re on foot all you want to do is keep going. Going and going and going and going until someone else requests a stop. Then you can get off. Wherever that is. Wherever they want you to be.

When the pali was broken I ended up everywhere. Nowhere was the same as it had been before. Every path changed, every stop was nonexistent and there was no rhyme to how it would be afterward. I went up to class and did what I thought I should, I got off by foodland and got back on -- also by foodland -- the driver said if you’re going to school you need to get off here. I had a feeling he was only talking to me from my backpack but I had headphones in and didn’t want to walk on the highway and didn’t want to risk looking stupid. I always wanted to seem like a local. So I stayed on and ended up spending nearly two hours on the bus and never making it to class. The way back home was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. H2 is through the mountains in a way that the other routes were not. It was like they would go on forever. The small island felt big and expansive and ever growing with richness and hope and God’s promise of existence.