2019

"Mele Kalikimaka, mama."

She kissed my forehead before wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Hawai'i had finally cooled down enough that we could wear a bulky cardigan around the house and not sweat ourselves out of it. While I was never going to have an authentic wintery Christmas, I liked enjoying it in our own way. Hawaiian Christmases would always be the most special to me.

It had been a while since we celebrated the holiday in our usual way. For a long time, it didn't feel the same without Dad—that was never going to change; we had to rediscover what these times of the year meant to us—and a large part of that had to do with him passing away weeks before Christmas. Nothing ruined the holiday season like losing a loved one and having it be a constant reminder of losing out on the joy he once brought to us during it.

As much as he would have wanted us to continue our family traditions as expected, we didn't have it in ourselves, though great efforts had been made, so they were put on pause for a few years. We still exchanged gifts, but it was often done where we handed them off, thanked each other, and then opened them up separately in our rooms. If we were lucky, Christmas landed on a Sunday so we could at least use our usual Sunday breakfast as an illusion to pretend like we were celebrating something.

Christmas fell on a Wednesday this year, but we had a lot of reasons to celebrate that didn't require a Sunday routine. Kanani was due next month, Micah was back for winter break, and the Riveras were coming over for a Christmas brunch spread, the same we used to have when Dad was the one cooking it. (Keali'i picked up Dad's omelette duties.) And when Anthony had asked if he could bring Nikau with them so he wouldn't have the spend the day alone, I told him Nikau had already been invited. Anthony found that amusing.

Mom kissed me once more before returning to the kitchen where she was helping Keali'i finish cooking the food. The entire house smelled like a dream, one I had been rudely awoken from many times over the years, and most of us had already taste-tested everything as soon as it hit the table.

"Remember how you said your work makes you double-check every single paper you scan in so you know nothing happened to the file?" Leimomi said after taking a large bite out of the cinnamon rolls that had been pulled fresh out of the oven. "Consider this more of that quality assurance."

"At least you're not quality-assuring alcoholic drinks." Mom scared her away by clicking the hot tongs near her stomach. The mimosa ingredients were safely guarded.

"I have a perfectly valid excuse for eating early," Kanani had added. She elected to eat a bread roll that was more butter than bread. "Baby said thank you for the pass."

"That baby is gonna come out like a construction worker."

Kanani rubbed her belly. "Even better."

"I'm envisioning it already." I lowered myself onto one of the chairs, careful not to let my mom or Keali'i see me taking a swipe of the mini spinach and mushroom quiches. "His neon green shirt and Timberland boots, walking into a 7-Eleven to buy out their spam musubis, manapua, and pork hash. All he'll need to do is move to Waianae or Aiea to complete the whole package."

Kanani shoved me away with a laugh. "At least wait until he's born to make fun of him."

"What are you talking about? I'm obviously going to be the cool aunt that spoils him."

"And what kind of aunt are you going to be?" Kanani directed at Leimomi.

"The gay one he comes to when he wants to complain about you."

Mom flipped her tongs in the air again, threatening us. "Don't think I can't see all of you eating right now."

One of them whispered, "She has eyes in the back of her head."

"Yes," Mom replied, still facing the stove as she stirred. "She does. Now get the house ready before everyone comes over or you're gettin' lickins."

None of us were under the impression our guests would care what our house looked like, but in the spirit of Christmas, and because it was hard to say no to our mother, we did what we were told. (All of us except for Kanani.) (The baby really was the best excuse for getting out of doing chores around the house.) Even Keali'i, who had so far only been helping with the cooking, tugged off the apron my dad used to wear and hung it up on the fridge so he could make up for where we were lacking with Kanani's absence. By the time someone knocked at the door, we had completed our finishing touches on the living room—Leimomi sprinted away with a full trash bag to toss it into the garbage can outside—and turned on the Christmas tree lights.

It was covered from the base to the star on top with remnants of our childhood. Ornaments passed down through generations and various ones we made in art class or summer school over the years. One of my earliest memories was my dad lifting me on his shoulders so I could place the star in its rightful spot, and squealing in delight when the lights were turned on so they reflected off all the glitter.

"Merry Christmas!" Alex shouted as she lept through the door and into my arms. Unsurprisingly, Anthony hung back behind her carrying all the gifts, while Uncle Akamu held a small cooler and what looked like takeout containers. "I think this is the first Christmas tree I've seen up close this year."

I pulled away laughing. "You don't have your own tree?"

"No, we're too lazy. If we put one up, it wouldn't be coming down until, like, June or something."

"Christmas in July is a thing, right?"

She pointed at me. "You're damn right, it is. Dad, we gotta put up the tree when we got back."

"Over my dead body." Uncle Akuma shoved past his children, ignoring the exaggerated grunt Anthony threw at him when he almost dropped one of the presents, and proceeded into the kitchen so he could help Mom. "You two always left me to clean up the mess every year and I'm not doing it again. Use your imagination. Or get a Charlie Brown Christmas tree next year."

It was only then that my eyes fell on Nikau as he entered the house right behind them. While he had earned his invitation on his own, carpooling with the Riveras was expected. And the small box in his hand didn't go unnoticed, along with the other envelopes tucked under his pinky finger.

"Meri kirihimete," he said before coming in for a hug.

Being cocooned snuggly in his arms brought me more comfort than I ever thought possible, but I didn't let us linger too long because I knew we had an audience, and they weren't too keen on pretending as if they hadn't witnessed us. Only barely hiding their snickers, the crowd dispersed as I closed the door behind our last guest, ushering them all into the living room so we could request their drinks.

"You didn't have to get us anything." I accepted the gifts, noting the neat cursive of my name on the small box.

"I know." He hung his jacket on the hook by the door. "I wanted to. But you can deduct points for unoriginality for the gift cards I got everyone else."

"Nonsense." Kanani wandered over to press a kiss against his cheek. "That was sweet of you, thank you."

"That's alright."

...

He was missed and we were happy.

Those two truths could coexist without feeling like one was disrespecting the other. I didn't realize that until after we had finished eating.

More specifically, it happened in the middle of us opening presents. All of our guests had gotten through theirs quickly since they were only opening the ones our family had given them, but ours had taken a tad bit longer. Since Kanani had her presents as well as a handful gifted for the baby, she had taken the longest, but it was never a bore watching expecting mothers open presents for a baby. (My theory was that we all loved tiny things.)

As my sister pulled a small onesie out of a mass of purple tissue paper and held it up for everyone to see, I couldn't remember the last time I had ever seen her smile that wide, which was a shame because it was probably the best thing I had ever laid eyes on. There was likely a myriad of reasons for it, most of which was obvious given the day, but I couldn't look away as if I wanted to pick apart her happiness and see what it was made of. It seemed impossible for one person to hold that much of it, and yet I didn't want anyone else to have it. After all the years spent taking care of us—mostly me, honestly—she deserved it better than anyone else I knew.

All of us laughed and smiled and reminisced about the pleasant memories we shared. Nikau and Anthony played some music, which prompted Uncle Akamu to ask Alex to dance, followed by Keali'i forcing me onto my feet. There were far too many people in our small living room to comfortably dance around, which meant we bumped into everyone else, and I even almost tripped over Leimomi's feet before she and Micah joined us on the makeshift dancefloor.

Maybe this was the epiphany I needed all along, or maybe I had experienced dozens of them before but was too stubborn to recognize them for what they were. Maybe life was a jumbled mess of missteps, heartache, and blinding happiness all wrapped into one, and that, although I didn't need to see trauma and tragedy as a good thing, I could still learn and grow from it.

Because it wasn't until I walked into the bathroom while the rest of the party continued outside that I caught a reflection of myself. At first, I hadn't recognized that person as me, until the figure's movements started mimicking mine. It all came together as it settled upon me how it was me. That reflection was entirely me, but a version of myself I hadn't seen in a long time. She smiled as wide as Kanani, with as much life behind her eyes as Leimomi always seemed to hold. Her cheeks were flush with color, and her shoulders sat comfortably without an invisible weight pressing down on them.

She reached up to run her fingers along the smooth silver necklace she had been gifted from someone who meant a lot to her, a lot more than she had ever anticipated—a shiny North Star that sparkled in the light. On the back was where her initials had been etched as a reminder that no matter where life took her, she could always find her way back home because she believed in herself.

That was me.

...

He found me on the beach.

It was my favorite place in the entire world. If I counted the time I spent on it, there was a good chance it would be more than I spent asleep. Nowhere else made me feel like I belonged quite like I did on that little patch of sand, watching as the waves pushed up onto the shore. Whenever I sought clarity in a world that presented little to none, it granted me immense comfort, even if it couldn't answer all of my questions.

Stars shimmered against the backdrop of a clear night sky, giving the illusion we were sitting inside a witch's crystal ball. If I turned my head to the side, I could see a line of houses that lit up like fireflies. While I didn't know most of the people who lived in those houses beyond a familiar face passing me by as I walked along our streets, they all felt so intrinsically part of my life. There were probably dozens of kids who had grown up on that same stretch of beach, and those kids had all grown into the same adult I was today, albeit with our own unique stories. This thought process would have sent me spiraling once upon a time, but I realized it didn't need to sound like a death sentence that I was small and seemingly insignificant because most of this town was, most of this island was, and yet nowhere else in the world compared to it. 

A blanket was draped around my shoulders right before he dropped down onto the sand beside me. Up until then, I hadn't been paying attention to how cold it was given the late hour, but I tugged the soft material tighter around me as I shielded against a breeze that picked up.

"Anthony fell asleep on the floor so your mom asked if I wanted to stay over."

"Lucky you," I joked. "But you're not getting access to my bed."

"I was planning on cuddling with Anthony anyway, so it's all good."

I shoved him away with a laugh. "Jackass."

He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated for a moment before closing it again. "You were so talkative today."

"So were you."

"Yeah, but I always know how to talk. That's why your mom loves me."

I couldn't force the laugh that erupted out of me to be more normal, but the way Nikau burst into an even bigger smile made me believe he liked the sound of it, even though I almost snorted.

"Yeah, she probably likes you more than me, to be honest."

Nikau rolled his eyes. "Your mom would hand you the stars if she could."

The moon had always seemed so much more impressive when I was younger. When you were young and small and too easily distracted by the most obvious thing in the room, the only motto you could subscribe to was the bigger, the better. No doubt it was an impressive celestial body, and I could spend the entire night staring at it, wondering what the other side of it looked like, but as I grew older, I appreciated those shiny specks in the sky so much more. Maybe it all tied into the way I saw myself amongst the rest of the world, and that likely had to do with the explanation my mother once gave me for why I had been named Hokulani.

"I just knew who you were going to be when you grew up, even before you were born," she had told me one day when I was in middle school. "Some days, you'll be brighter than others, but your beauty will never fade. And when you look up in search of yourself, you'll find what you need within. You're the closest thing to an angel I'll ever know."

Whether it was amongst the glistening peak of each wave or the blink of a star high in the heavens, I knew where I belonged. And when I was a product of stolen land, my sense of belonging in this world and the way it tied into the understanding of my worth and what I had to offer it in return, recognizing that was half the battle. I didn't expect everyone to understand this, but I took comfort in knowing that the man beside me likely did. I knew he did. The way he spoke about Aotearoa and his family who still lived there proved that. It was an inherent feature of being a person of the ocean—a remnant of old Polynesia and a vessel of her new self.

"She did give me one," I said. "And I'll carry it with me wherever I go."

Nikau reached out and touched the necklace he had given me as gently as he would a feather. We both knew what the other was thinking even without saying it out loud. Just as some of the greatest songs of all time were never written, some of the greatest thoughts were never spoken. As we both prepared ourselves to close out another chapter of our lives and move on to the next, we understood each other in ways most others wouldn't, if anyone at all. That an empty silence could fill as much space as an endless stream of words, and that as fleeting as time could often be, it held meaningful weight in the grand scheme of life.

"Anthony said you finished it." I snuck a glance at him as he stared out at the water. "The last song on your album."

"I did."

"I can't believe you told him before me," I joked. We both knew why he did it, and I wasn't upset at him for it. If anything, the fact that he wanted to preserve this moment of our time together for as long as possible meant that he felt the same as I did. "I'm literally on it."

"You can be all the other firsts," he promised. It wasn't something either of us could guarantee, but that was also okay with me, as strange as that was.

I leaned in slowly, checking for a green light, and kissed him under the confetti of stars. "You were a lot of mine."

His thumb grazed the side of my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized slipped down my face. I wanted to sink into his touch and never float back to the surface. But all things, good or bad, eventually came to an end one way or another. Now that Nikau had finished his album, it was only a matter of time before he would be on the road, continuing the work he had set out to accomplish when he boarded his first flight out of Aotearoa. And as grateful as I was for how far I had gotten, as well as how hopeful I was to see a better future for myself, there were things I needed to do on my own.

"I'll be here for another month or so," he said. "I don't want to waste a moment of it." As if any time spent together could be wasted.

I nodded once before placing my hand over his, leaning my cheek into it and feeling the warmth that radiated back to me. No matter what happened, I would remember this touch, this moment, this love that had sprung out of nowhere and helped me stand on my own two feet at a time when I wasn't sure if it wasn't even possible anymore.

"Then let's make the most of it, yeah?"

Without speaking, letting our familiar and gentle silence fall over us once more, I rose to my feet, feeling his presence beside me, and tore off my clothes as I crept toward the water. By the time all of my clothes lay on the sand, the waves pushed up over my toes, sending a shiver down my spine from the cold. He slipped his hand into mine as we slowly walked in together, and once we were fully submerged, my body acclimated to the temperature. We were anchored to one another as we rose and fell between each wave. I stopped shaking in his arms, but he didn't let go. Not yet. Not while we still had time. Eventually, we wouldn't have it, but we would always carry this moment with us.

We soared through the light of the sun, and fell in love by the light of the moon.