It was raining. So I drank red wine.
I packed the rest of my things, set aside three days worth of clothes and some WOD gear, literally and metaphorically. I zipped my suitcases, closed the box and put them next to my carry-on and my wedding gown. I made dinner. I found ingredients in the pantry and freezer that were going to go bad if I didn't use them and threw them in a pan. I sat down with red wine, ate dinner alone and watched tv. I got up, cleaned up and went to take a shower. I undressed like a slob, not realizing how quickly the wine had caught up to me and stepped into the shower. The hot water hit me and it was like those scenes from a moving where your life flashes in front of your eyes. That moment when it all comes rushing back to you. When you see where you have gone, what you have been doing and question why you are doing it. I can almost here the music as it came rushing back to the shower. Cut to scene: girl in shower, sunburn, naked, hot water...frightened expression on her bewildered face. Cue the tears. Action.
It was raining. So I drank red wine. I packed, made dinner and took a shower. I questioned what the hell I was doing. And I cried.
I told Tyler that it wouldn't be the end of me crying a few weeks ago when I finally booked my ticket. But I thought that I was ready to go? I thought that I was over this, that I had convinced myself that I was freeing myself from the torment and sudden punch in the mouth that Oahu had delivered YET AGAIN. Like a really sexy abusive boyfriend I keep returning to thinking I can tame the "bad boy", I run back to this island begging for forgiveness for ever doubting and ever leaving, only to get socked in the eye, punched in the mouth, thrown out and spit on. Again. And again. And again and did I mention this was the third time coming and fourth time leaving this damn place??
So I got out of the shower and sat on the toilet and looked up. I spoke to any higher power of God, energies, deceased relatives and amakua. "Give me the strength to walk away. Give me the strength to walk away from this life I've created, from these people, from these material possessions I feel claim my life. Give me the strength to leave this island. Give me the strength to walk away from CrossFit East Oahu, from my friends, from this home I created. Please, please, please!" I sobbed, closed my eyes and opened them again. I was staring face to face with my reflection. I stopped crying for a moment and took it in...
My eyes get puffy when I cry and my lips tend to pout ridiculously. My hair was wet but it was really long and pulled back behind my shoulders. On my collar was a tan line from yesterday. Some hideous sunburn I had gotten while doing the CrossFit throwdown. It clashed with my bathingsuit tan. I lifted my arm to wipe my eyes and noticed the definition of muscle. I leaned my head on my hand and saw it again. I stood up and noticed my abs were tight, my tanlines were visible, my hair was uncut and lightened from the years in the sun. There was a bruise on my shoulders, tender marks on my ribcage from where heavy weights had fallen on them. My hands were callused, my feet were raw. On my left hand was a brilliant sparkle that caught my eye. All of a sudden I got a feeling...that moment when it all comes rushing back to you. When you see where you have gone, what you have been doing and question why you are doing it...
Oahu isn't only inside of my soul and stamped into my being, but it has manifested itself on my body. I will forever carry with me my friends from CrossFit East Oahu. Their imprint is there. It is on my chest, visible in my bruise from the weight. It is rippling inside the fiber of the muscles they have formed on me. These are my muscles on my body, but they belong to Rose and Keoni. This is a product of their commitment and time invested on my body. This tanline, although it may fade, is the Hawaiian sun smiling down on my skin. Each line a visible representation of a moment of bliss under its rays. A surf session here, a competition there. These callused hands have gripped bars, carried children and waxed boards. They have shook the hands and hugged the people of friends that will forever be apart of me. These feet, as raw as they are, are formed from hours in the gym, running on sand, walking barefoot around my yard and over gravel and hot lava rock. My hair is long because I didn't want to pay to cut it here, where the weather is so perfect I don't need to bother drying it. My eyes may be reflecting the tired I feel from these weeks but I know at least I have somewhere to rest them thanks to friends. My smile may be hidden by sorrow but I know I smile broader because I have known true love. Every time I see the ring on my left hand I will be back on Waikiki beach in a thunder storm.
These physical proofs of life on this aina make me feel like I can take another step closer to that Hawaiian Airlines gate. That gate where I know a plane will be waiting, my name assigned to a seat, non-stop service to Portland, Oregon. I know that on the other side of that gate will be my dad and my brother, waiting with a jacket and smiles to grab my bags, listen to my stories and carry me off to a week of peace. Those same people will see me to Los Angeles, where there will be my mom, my friends, my family and my cousins inviting me with open arms back to my childhood home. Pretty soon I will extend the same warmth, the same aloha to Tyler as we start our new life and our new adventure on the golden beaches of southern California. We can be ambassadors of aloha, like we were shown last night by our friends gathered around that beautiful Hawaiian sunset. This isn't goodbye, this is only a temporary parting.
The lei I gave Tyler on his first day arriving at the airport is hanging in the gym, awaiting the return of its owner. The leis we were given last night will one day hang in our own gym, awaiting the return of their owners. The spirit of aloha will be alive in all of us as we journey through this life. As a welcoming gesture to all who step foot inside our homes, our workplaces, our private and personal lives, aloha will live on. CrossFit Aloha anyone?
I can walk away. Only because I can take it with me.
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