A Breath of Fresh Air

If there is one thing I know, it is that Maili puts Waikiki to shame. After having seen most of the island, I had become fairly solid in my opinion of Oahu. I'd learned that Jack Johnson resides in a house on the North Shore, tourists are seen more as targets rather than guests, and that Hawaii kai is not really close to anything. But what stood out from all of this, what took a week to discover, was the beauty in serenity.

As busy a woman as Simona (Monica's mother) is, there are a few perks to her job. Driving across town to Wainae also made the visit to Maili possible. Now I know I had mentioned before that North Shore took my breath away, but imagine Maili as a place that could make you forget how to breath altogether. As I walked down the white beaches, the sand forming pockets between my toes, I felt an overwhelming sensation envelop my body. For the first time since I can remember, I felt truly alone. But rather long for another's company, I allowed myself to be content with the solidarity that had befallen me. I sat along the water's edge and listened as the music of the ocean echoed all around me. I pulled my knees close to my chest, the chill of happiness having found me and I opened my eyes to the warm, whispering rays of the sun. "So, this is true Hawaii," I thought to myself. Maili was true. And it was raw, and it was pure. It was sobering to think that Maili wouldn't always be this way, and to question how long it would take for the developing city to reach the West. As I rode what was left of my Maili high back down to where I sat in the sand, I changed my focus back to the vast ocean before me. The water moved like dancing crystals against the backdrop of a clear sky; its innocence astounding. Untouched and unshared was this beach, and for some reason, that I'll never understand, it chose me.