Strong Like the Sea, стр. 73
As I step out of the waves, Auntie helps Uncle walk to a chair. Sarge, of course, watches Uncle’s every step. Now that he finally got Uncle back, Sarge refuses to leave his side. Not that he’s mean or anything, but it’s amazingly hard to move a hundred-and-fifty-pound slug. Besides, Sarge wouldn’t hurt a fly . . . unless that fly got too close to Uncle, then Sarge might sit on it and crush it to bits with that enormous, furry behind.
The doctors say Uncle’s new medicine should even things out for him so Auntie can stop watching him like a sea lion protecting her cub.
“I’m fine!” Uncle grumbles. “I don’t need a chair. Leave me alone.”
“Of course you don’t need a chair. Why would I think that? But ho, here’s one sitting here on the sand for no reason. Shame to waste it,” Auntie says as she eases him into the chair and pats his cheek.
“Bah!”
Across the narrow, bowl-shaped path that leads from the nest to the ocean, Dad stands with his hand steady on Mom’s shoulder. He said having her home again was like surfacing for the first time after a deep dive into darkness. Lucky for Mom, Dad doesn’t follow her around refusing to leave her side like a lost puppy—not at all. Dad prefers to gather Mom in his arms and carry her with him wherever they go. Much more efficient that way.
“Don’t forget your sweet noni juice.” Dad passes Mom the cup, but she turns her face away.
“There is absolutely nothing sweet about that drink. I tell you, the name is a lie. They should call it ‘fractionally less bitter’ instead of sweet.” Mom grimaces.
“You’ll get used to it,” Uncle says.
“Maybe next time Alex can make me mango juice instead. I could drink mango all day long, but cheese fruit?” She downs the glass and shudders.
“Next time, we’ll add bananas and coconut milk to mask the flavor for you,” Dad promises.
Mom opens her mouth to tease Dad some more but then sees me coming and reaches for my hand instead—something she’s been doing a lot lately. “You ready?”
“Yeah. Have you seen anything move yet?”
“Not yet. Can’t rush these things,” Uncle murmurs.
I glance at Dad. What if it takes too long and we have to go? Better to know now than be surprised by it later. “So, Dad. What else is on the schedule? How long can we stay?”
“As long as you want.” Dad rubs Mom’s shoulders. “Today we are here, and that’s enough. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
“Hear that?” Malia bumps me with her elbow. “You get to stay!”
I throw her a shaka and she returns it with a wicked smile. “Cheehoo!”
The rest of Castle Crew waits down the sides of the furrow, all of them scared to leave and miss the big moment.
Jack’s dad would be here too, except the coconut wireless told someone who told someone who told the hiring manager at the Polynesian Cultural Center about this hardworking man that Auntie saw harvest enough noni to feed an army in a fraction of the time. He’ll come see Jack when he gets off at five. And in the meantime, Jack’s got his phone ready to record it all for his dad.
It’s happening!
A hush settles over the crowd as the sand covering the nest rises and falls, soft as breathing.
A crack,
a rustle,
a surge,
a collapse!
Then a new hollow chamber boils with tiny flippers, shells, and bodies as they clamber over each other, climbing, falling, tumbling, then pushing, fighting, and swimming through siblings and sand, relentless in their drive to reach the sea.
Oh my gosh!
They’re so cute!
Look at that one!
He’s stuck! Oh, there he goes.
How many are there?
There’s so, so many . . . and still so few.
When the last one presses his way up onto the damp sand and flaps toward the sea with all his might, we follow him, cheering him on for his great journey.
You can do it!
Be brave.
Come back again someday!
His head sinks under the water and his clumsy fins become wings to speed him on his way. Uncle said I could swim after him—follow as he slips into the reef—but I’ve already explored out there today, and the view from right here is better.
I gaze at my ohana: Uncle, beaming like a proud grandpa with Auntie, content at his side, Mom and Dad, with nowhere to rush off to, and me, grateful for every second with all of us together.
I search the waves for a fleeting glimpse of Saisei’s last baby, and I see him! Or maybe one of his brothers, but still, I whisper, “Be safe, and grow strong, little one.” A wave sweeps over and he dives beneath the spray, each small but fierce stroke building speed as he soars beyond my sight and begins his secret journey. I wave and wish him well. “Grow strong like my family—strong like the sea.”
I fell in love with Laie, Hawaii, in kindergarten, when my big sister—AKA the coolest person in my five-year-old universe—moved there to go to school. Her letters home were filled with posters, li hing mui candies, leis, pictures of geckos and giant bugs in her room (so cool), and a multitude of adventures. Her Polynesian dormmates taught her how to make their favorite foods like pani popo, kalbi ribs, bulgogi, lumpia, and many more dishes that quickly became family favorites for us.
As I grew, so did my appreciation and respect for Hawaii and her people as I’ve visited Oahu, stayed with my sister on the Big Island (she’s still the coolest), and made friends on both islands. If readers would like to learn more about any local words or foods I’ve included in my story, I suggest visiting local Hawaiian websites and resources. I’ve especially come to love sites where native speakers share what these words, foods, and concepts mean to them personally.