I’ve decided that being in the ocean gives you the best angle on making love to the planet. Just think: the ocean is wet, it’s rolling; it holds, caresses, rocks and floats you, flips you over and spits you out.
I leave the water feeling satiated, relaxed, calm, and fulfilled. At times I worry I have dallied too long; after all, I have things to do, but like snuggling with a lover on Monday mornings, I linger happily. “Just twenty more minutes, my darling, and then I’ll go!” I grin and curl into the waves, delighted with the way my fluid partner molds perfectly to my body.
I suppose it makes sense then, that I become jealous when others speak of their relationship with the ocean? Perhaps I take the idea of our partnership too far, but I find myself bristling inwardly when someone says, “I want to be a marine biologist.”
“No!” I think reflexively. “The ocean’s mine.”
My bachelor’s degree could be titled marine psychology, as I began college in marine biology and finished up in psychology. My passionate and fierce love spills over all of it, and I protect and defend the sea like a mother does her child. (Securely attached child, I hope!) I want us all to come together and help, to make things cleaner, better, more sustainable and less acidic, but at the end of the day, I want to be the one the ocean thanks. I want the credit. I’m good at this, the ocean advocacy. (You see, I just gave the credit to myself, which is one thing that keeps me motivated. “Mahalo for the credit, Amy!” “You’re welcome, Gorgeous . . . anytime.”)
And so, in a rather abrupt topic change, I must come clean about something. I have been unhappily separated from the object of my desire—Kailua Town—for almost two months now. Out of necessity, I moved elsewhere on Oahu in December. I can handle it. I am strong, I am fine, and I am consciously enjoying this other place, but truly? Part of me is going a little bit nuts!
I miss
The gentle waves stroking the shore
The glow of the little lights above Kalapawai Market in the early dawn
The crazy, mixed up, bird call instrumentals every morning
Sitting with the regulars having coffee, smiling at one another, perusing the paper, and shooting the Kailua breeze. . .
I miss
Walking and biking anywhere I need to, believing I am seen and safe
Enthusiastically greeting longtime driver Augie as I board TheBus, receiving his clear brightness in return
The 57’s male narrator offering smoothly, “Kailua Road and Ah-oh-LO-ah” (Yes, please!)
Running my fingers over the hand picked and beautiful new wares in Donna’s Lanikai General Store
Inhaling the scent of wetsuit neoprene in Aaron’s Dive Shop, letting my body relax with the familiar rush, and watching the well-muscled divers talk about what they’ve seen beneath the waves
Wishing I had seen it, too
With them *laughter*
and most of all. . .
Magic nights at Kailua Beach. That’s when the sun seems to drift down more slowly, and the surface of the warm, dozing waves turns fifty different shades of blue and purple, and your heart almost stops with the beauty of it.
My Dear Readers, I wish we were here.
Until next time, know you are loved and hold yourself in high esteem.
The above column was originally posted in February of 2013, in the online newsletter kailua411.org. It was reprinted here with permission from the publisher. The newsletter is no longer online. The photograph is a screenshot of a video I took at Napili Bay, Maui on December 30th, 2015. (The photo I originally had with the column looked fuzzy in this Wixsite blog, no matter how I manipulated it.) :)