I will miss your sand and everything attached to it.
I will miss the way the GPS says “Kah-may-ha-may-ha”.
I will miss warm malasadas and crunchy chicken katsu at potlucks.
I will miss those few and far between hapa hotties and North Shore board short-ed booties and tantalizing tribal tatted triceps.
I will miss driving through the mountains of H3, spotting Stairway and doing an inner I CONQUERED THAT happy dance.
I will miss the pineapple and pupus and Pidgin and the Pee-peh-lee-neh joke and Papailoa, where I go to read and bask alone.
I will miss my ohana (those staying on the island and those leaving) and so many moments in their lives, big and small. The birth of Cassie’s little man, the next time Kelly dyes her hair, the day Phil cooks a meal that doesn’t involve any frozen food and Annalise gets engaged and Leslie decides to stay a third year…
I will miss my keiki, who take up so much of my heart. I don’t ever need to have kids because I already have 200 it seems!
I will miss so much I could write a novel about the things I’ll miss. I could write a novel about the extreme anxiety I felt when I said goodbye to my favorite beaches and restaurants. I could write a novel about how the birds here are royal, expecting you to drive around them…yet, I’ll miss them.
I will miss every aspect of life here, all things, good and bad, because that’s how you miss wholly. Therefore I will miss the radio stations and lack of Mexican food right along with the rainbows, leis, honu, and mai tais.
I will miss calling this rock home. But I left home once so that I could return, maybe I’ll do the same again.
Oahu, I will miss your skies and smiles and waters, your colors and kindness. Mahalo for your patience and your always warm embrace. I will love you always, I will carry you everywhere- your sand and everything attached to it.