Driving: drunk on the cool evening breeze.

Driving home from a friend’s house this evening I found myself thinking of late nights when I’d drive up Pacific Coast Highway in San Diego from La Jolla to Del Mar and beyond.  The ocean was a shimmering black with frosty white waves crashing up toward the shore.  I’m not sure why these memories surfaced, it’s been over 10 years since I’ve lived there.  But I imagined driving with the windows down, my favorite music blasting and the wind in my face.  The air would be cool and crisp as most southern California evenings are.

I am pretty sure what spurred such memories and sensations was rolling down my window tonight and feeling the cool air rush in.  It’s been so hot lately in Hawaii and I haven’t felt the cool night air since last winter.

These drives served as a form of therapy.  Late at night, the roads were completely empty with no one around.  There were long stretches of road with no stop lights or stop signs and I’d drive for miles and miles.   I realize here in Hawaii I don’t really have that option.  I could drive toward Hawaii Kai or even up to Makapu’u for a nice drive, but it doesn’t feel the same.  Hawaii is a relatively small island and driving there would be like going half way around the island.

I miss living on the mainland.  I want to know I can drive forever if I wanted to.

Sole-less in paradise

Yesterday somewhere around Makapu’u, the sole of my hiking boots peeled off as I was walking.  I looked down and they were just flapping there, hanging on toward the back heel like a loose tooth about to fall out on a 7-year old.  Though I will not be receiving 50 cents under my pillow, sadly.  I pulled them off, walked back, and hung out on the shore. I was bummed, I really loved my boots, we’ve been through a lot together.  I’m surprised I hadn’t named them like so many other of my inanimate objects I adore (sad or funny?).  I blame it on Pele and Mauna Loa Summit.  That hike did me in, and apparently, my shoes too.  I suppose days on black a’a lava with a heavy pack will do that.  It seems like a timely end though.  They’d been through a lot.

My friend said it’s nothing shoe glue can’t fix, but I kind of want new ones.  Though I did think they were the best hiking shoes in the world and were never going to fall apart.  Even yesterday, I gazed down at them in admiration.  I have prided myself in making such a wise decision to purchase them 10 years ago at Hudson Trail Outfitters in DC. They were on sale and everything I wanted in a hiking boot.  And then yesterday they just fell apart.  Both at the same time, right in front of my eyes.

the boots. the soles. but not together.

Bored of myself

I haven’t written for a while, mostly because I’m tired of writing about my recent sadness.  I’m tired of being sad.  I’m tired of wondering if I should be sad or if it’s okay to laugh and smile.  I’d rather not write at all than continue on expressing painful feelings.

When I went on a run today I was thinking about what it would be like to reach out into the world more.  I’m used to working hard and have always been proud of my professional and personal accomplishments.  They have not come easy.  But reaching out, whatever that means, does not come naturally to me.  So as an active gesture I decided to say, “good morning” to people I passed.  I received a response about 1 out of 5 try’s and I guess that’s okay with me.  I’m assuming at least 1/3 did not speak English and the rest thought I was gasping for air.

So it’s been two months since my mother passed.  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. No matter how many books have been written about grief (and there are many) or the advice people have, there is no formula that exists.  Grief is not linear.  What I do know is I’m feeling a little bit bored with myself.  I don’t know what is next but I’m feeling ready to move in some direction.  Maybe even forward.