I arrived in Honolulu on January 26, 2008, at 9:13pm.
I had planned to stay seven months. Plans change.
I live in Hawaii. I’m not just visiting anymore. It’s taken a while to adjust to that little fact.
I live a five minute walk from the beach. I don’t go there very often. When you’re vacationing somewhere, you try to cram everything in because you know you’ll be leaving it all behind. When paradise is home, you’re not as pressured. No time to do it today; you can do it tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.
My aunt, uncle, so many cousins that I’ve not even met, all live within two hours drive from me. I see them infrequently. It’s such a hassle to go out there. We’re all so busy. There’s always next week. There’s always next month.
I call my mother daily. I’ve seen her three times since I moved to Hawaii. She came here for two weeks over her birthday, her first visit to the island, her first time seeing her sister in several years. In August I flew back to Cincinnati for two weeks to wrap up the loose ends in my old life, to move on to my new one. In December we met halfway in Portland, early Christmas.
I still talk to my father only every few months. I haven’t seen him in a year.
I tell all my friends they’re welcome to come visit me in Hawaii. My couch is open; all they’d need to worry about is airfare. We make plans. Plans change.
I’ve made a ridiculous amount of friends in Hawaii. I don’t even know how that happened. I’m not a social person.
I think they actually care.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know how long I’m staying. I still have the urge to run, only it’s more involved now, I can’t just drop everything and go, I have to think it through first. And maybe that’s better.
I’m going back to school in the fall. That’s another year, at least, that I’m here, unless I run again. I think I’m tired of running.