My son left for Japan earlier this week. It is the Japan study tour with his eighth grade class. He will be gone for almost two weeks. My only real fear is that he will lose all of his money, budget poorly and run out before the end of his time there or lose other important things like his phone or the hotspot we got for him for the time he is gone. We met with the other students, parents and chaperones that morning and I gave my son a hug goodbye. He was very excited for this trip. I didn’t feel really sad until I got home and saw that his plane had left and that he was hours away over the ocean. And then I was home alone that evening. His dad was working his second job. And I was home. Alone. Trying to do things. Things that needed to be done.
I have lived here for a very long time. More than thirteen years. More than the lifespan of my son. We see my family once a year in the summer. When my son was in second grade, we moved to NY for six months. I quit my job. He went to the public school in Orient. I worked at the town marina. I lived in my mother’s very small, one bathroom house, in a sleeping arrangement that I refuse to discuss. We had always planned on coming back to Hawaii. We bought round trip tickets. It was a way to see my mother more. In my mind we could live in Hawaii for six months and New York for six months. That little foray taught me that that was really not possible. It was too disruptive, for my family, for my son, who went to two different schools in one school year.
And that was six years ago. And all of that time we go home every summer. My job has been great about letting me go for longer and longer periods of time. But they never felt long enough. Home is in two places. My heart is in two places too. And I am getting older. And my family in NY is getting older. And my son is graduating from the school that he has gone to since kindergarten. He moves to a new school in the next school year. So. It seemed like a good time. A good time to think about moving. Moving back to New York.
And so now, that is happening. I bought one way tickets. For my son and I. I am unsure where we will live. I am unsure where my son will go to school. My car will be shipped. I am working on securing work with my current organization. I worry constantly. About money. About how much I may be fucking up my son’s life. It is so much worry that I forget how my heart sings when I think about this. This move. How this move has been thought about for more than six years. Discussed for more than six years. And no solution found for more than six years.
I have thought about telling people about this decision. I have sat across from people and had discussions about things in the future which I will be in NY for. And I have not said anything. And part of that is because as much as my heart was singing about going to NY, it is sobbing about leaving HI. And the time is so close. It is so close that I seem to be crying every day. At the drop of a hat. So if you see me and if you say something and if you want to talk about it, I may not be able. So maybe just hug me. I’m totally into hugging these days. But I will still probably cry.
At this very moment, in my very life in Hawaii, I feel closer to the people in my life here than I ever have. I think that I have learned, in the past couple of years, that it is the people that are what’s important. It is why I have to go and why it is so difficult to go. Part of me just wanted to Houdini out of Hawaii but that seems wrong. But the date is creeping and creeping up. And I have to tell people. But I seem to have lost my voice. My ability to tell. Maybe writing is a baby step towards telling. Or maybe it is the only telling there will be.