words & art by shé

bookshelf

Tag: family

  • Pity Kiss

    He snaked his arm through my open 4Runner window, snagged my shoulder to pull me closer, and kissed me on the cheek. I was too surprised to resist. I had pulled over when I saw him to find out why he suddenly stopped texting in the middle of negotiating a visit to Habibi with his…

  • Native

    “You’re not native,” states the woman ahead of me in the long slow grocery line. She’d asked me where I was from, and, as usual, I said, “I live here.” We’re on Kaua’i, so she probably means Native Hawaiian. I nod my fair head yes, I am native, and she stares at my blue eyes.…

  • Meditations

    “What the fuck are you doing in Mexico?” scathed a thought during meditation. A beat… two… then, “I AM HEALING,” roared my inner Capitana, much to my surprise and delight. Usually I am cowed by these raging judgments and scornful doubts, and tuck my head in like a turtle resisting attack. But not this time. I…

  • Reflection

    “Don’t want no short dick man.” The singer is adamant, and I am shocked by the explicit English words emanating from the bus speakers. Loudly. Repetitively. Blatantly stating what she does not want.  I am sitting next to another sailing woman, on our way to a store with maritime supplies. There are six of us…

  • Hauling Out

    I’ve been over the edge for a while, and wondering why. Did the math and realized that I left Kaua’i 15 months ago. Seems to be my limit, as I wrote a book about an earlier excursion, also 15 months. Crashed in Florida in 2018. Now I’ve crashed in Mazatlán. Too much time doing hard…

  • Swimming the Gulf

    “Is that your mother?” A woman on a nearby towel at a Mississippi beach asks me this as I carry the beach umbrella and other paraphernalia back to the parking lot. The Gulf of Mexico is choppy with wind waves. It is June 2018. I nod. “Enjoy her,” she says, smiling. “I do,” I say,…

  • Priorities

    Her face is suffused with bliss as the whitewater carries her all the way to shore. She’s pushed up, beaming, holding onto the boogie board. When it scrapes bottom, she rolls off onto wet sand laughing, then carefully rises to her feet, turns around, and wades back out. Short auburn hair plasters her scalp, and…

  • Drive Like a Duchess

    Drive like a Duchess with an entourage. The words appear in my brain as I’m taking the inaugural trip with my Tiny House on Wheels. I’ve had one lesson in towing from a kind employee of the RV seller, and now I’m on my own. Cannot speed with a travel trailer, even a cute silver-and-yellow one.…

  • Step Away

    “Step away from my brother’s grave,” I say. Two women have approached his headstone while I am at the water spigot by the road. One has her phone out and leans over, snapping photos. The other picks up the bubble wand lying next to a large lit candle. They ignore me. “Step away from my…

  • Dusk

    A faint path lopes along the top of the isthmus that separates the mooring lagoon from the sea. I didn’t notice it for a month, and trudged the rougher scree that tried to throw me off balance. Imagine my delight one evening, in the slanting rays, to find an easier way. And it was always…