Write
On Maui is in its sixth year, thanks to writers who have
submitted their poetry and stories and also to contributors who have
sent checks in support of this ezine. Some months the going gets sluggish,
but issues eventually make it to the World Wide Web.
Write On Maui is published in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in the
Hawaiian Islands, on the island of Maui, in a small neighborhood in
Kihei. The desk at the top of the stairs is occupied by equipment
that beep, flicker and grind. The windows of the room are in line
with the tree canopy of the neighborhood. Beyond this space, banana
plants, and ti-leaves brush against each other in the breeze. The
jasmine is in full bloom, as are the oranges and tangerines.
Our houses are so close we can hear each other sneeze. Neighbors that
surround us are carpenters, hotel employees, and county workers. We
are here, yet apart because of our fences. We keep to ourselves, unlike
the old days where there were no boundaries, except the ones in our
minds.
During the December storm of 2007, this corner of our neighborhood
became one. As water swelled within minutes to a foot deep, men teamed
and cleared debris, diverted the rising water from our homes, and
waded through the immersed road to see if others needed aid.
It was a shocking sight to see water rise and there was nothing to
stop it. When the flood subsided, mud from Upcountry settled in our
yards and stained our walls, but it also uncovered a truth that neighbors
are people who can be counted on, just like the old days.
Now where was I going with this?
In a few weeks, my significant other and I will be walking on cobblestone
streets in the historic city of Prague, Czech Republic. That is if
the airline we’re flying isn’t grounded. We have an apartment
close to the tourist sites but hopefully far enough to experience
local life as well. If we’re lucky, we may hear our neighbor
sneeze, or someone might say, “Ahoj” to us. I’m
reading the guide books and watching the videos. I am feeling cautious
and at the same time, intrepid. I can’t wait to shop at a grocery
store. Because an egg is the same everywhere else, isn’t it?
Prague, Dover
and Paris photos here soon.
