The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun
The full moon passed over us again, a blood-tinged yellow over the rainforest. Mike watched it wane with grim satisfaction. "Got away from it this time." For 2 years now, I've looked up at the sky during nights of pivotal change - love, grief, loss, discovery, travel - and found myself staring into the eye of the full moon. I said as much, Mike now distrusts it. The moon is wily.
My mother brought the boy home this weekend. We waited for the Superferry to arrive in a dirt lot with PROHIBITED signs posted along it, listening to a Charlaine Harris audiobook. Windows open, I tucked my shirt up to let my belly cool in the evening air and took out my knitting. The prim voice of the narrator took a break from the murderous plot to give a detailed description of the characters' snow-bound sexual exploits just as a burly man with an old poodle pulled up alongside our open window. They looked at the car for a moment; knitting pregnant woman with huge bare belly listening to cock talk. Lovely. Mike stared down the poodle.
Gavin ran to the car when he saw us driving slowly through the disoriented moo-ing ferry-goers. I hopped out and pulled him away from the road in a shower of kisses as my mother hurried up behind us. My family! We drove home in the dark and watched Gavin breathe as he slept beside us on the air bed, perfect and small and safe.
My mother smiled like a cat into the wind while we drove into Hana, agreeing that it feels right out here. "It's like a cross between Molokai and the res, with a bit of Bloomington." Sleepy small town, horses and cows grazing, barefoot children, tattooed locals and tye-dyed hippies kicking around the general store. I relaxed against her approval. We may have found our way home at last.
