words & art by shé

bookshelf

Category: Love

  • Ashes to Ashes

    Signing the paperwork was hard. Fortunately, the funeral director kept getting it wrong. She also lied to my brother and niece, blaming me for the delay. Then more miscommunication ensued, this time about Mom’s titanium hips. Not miscommunication, lack of communication, despite multiple emails. Are they mechanical devices or not? Not. Check the other box.…

  • Painting

    “Paint the ocean,” said my dad, but I didn’t dare. His huge 3D map of northern California covered a wall of his house, sans sea, and I was afraid to screw it up. I was fifteen. Back in kindergarten, though, I painted a picture for my mother every day, so she would be alive when…

  • Ya Gotta Tell ’em

    Pakala. Lying on my board on a small day, waiting for set waves. A stand-up paddle boarder startles me, swiftly passing on my immediate left. He’s gone before I can say anything, and I bob in his wake. Another SUPer quickly paddles after him, yelling in Pidgin, “No do that! Respect da surfers! Whatchu problem,…

  • Mary Patricia Kathleen

    “I love you, gorgeous girl!” says Mom. I am between sleeping and waking, delighted to hear her voice. She sounds like she did in her thirties: vibrant, happy, raring to go. Her energy warms my heart, causing an hours-long smile. Unbeknownst to me, her body is in the New Orleans VA hospital: COVID, pneumonia, collapsed…

  • Turtle Patrol

    Don’t do it, I think and grab their ankles, just long enough to get their attention. We surface, and I spit out my snorkel. “You need to stay fifteen feet away from sea turtles.” One of the girls seems to listen, but the other quickly sinks below. Fortunately, the young honu (green sea turtle) is…

  • Bowing Man

    Even in paradise there is road work. Lately, during weekdays, only one lane of the highway is open between Kilauea and Stepford. I rarely get stuck early in the morning, but sometimes catch it later, after snorkeling. Traffic stops completely. Then I shut off the 4Runner’s engine and write. Many others leave their engines on,…

  • Words of Love

    “I’m not dead,” said John. I’m sitting on his grave in Queen of Heaven Cemetery. The headstone dates read: May 28, 1964 – September 30, 1967. Today is September 30, 2019. I’ve been here before, but I’ve never heard him quite so clearly. I believe him. And it is a huge relief. I have spent…

  • Going to Be Happy

    “Fore!” yelled a woman some distance away. I looked from the albatross resting on the green, toward the sound. “This is a golf course!” she shouted, gloved hands raised, a club in one. I know it’s a golf course, you privileged rich human, but strong old feelings quickly rain down on me: fear, shame, anger.…

  • Essay #50: t(r)ooth

    I lost a tooth recently. Well, that’s not exactly true, I know where it is: off the coast of Kaua’i. I swam it out from Polihale State Park, past the breakers, and dropped it in the celadon water. Thank you! 53 years ago, give or take, I found a shark’s tooth on Myrtle Beach, way…

  • Essay #49: surfista

    Fat, old, ugly — that’s what the mirror said this morning, that bullshit trifecta familiar to many women. Women? Maybe it’s a human condition, not strictly personal, which doesn’t make me feel any better as I try to insert contact lenses so I can go surfing. Fuck. Who am I kidding? Surfing is a young…