He hears them. They speak to him constantly. No, not in his head. The voices speak to him in the breeze, the creeks, the leaves, the rocks, the soil, and everything all around him. Sometimes, they speak to him through the eyes of the elders of the community. These are voices that never stop for him.
-
-
Sifting Through the Ashes
I thought it was strange that my mom called me so early in the morning. It was 7:30am for me, so it must have been 4:30am for her. It was Wednesday, August 9th. “I wanted to call you before you saw the news. There's a fire in Lāhainā, Kīhei, and Kula. Everyone in our family is safe and accounted for. I might go pick up grandpa from Kīhei today. Your cousin was in Lāhainā, but escaped to Nāpili. Aunty has not heard from him since last night. I will keep in touch.” My cousin called my aunty the next day to check in. He was safe and helping with the…
