May 2009

My mother-in-law and brother-in-law are visiting from Hawaii. Whenever I tell people that my husband, who has a Hawaiian name, was born and raised in Hawaii, they say, “He’s Hawaiian.” He is not Hawaiian, which refers to the indigenous Polynesian people of the Hawaiian Islands, but he is from Hawaii. I tell you this not because it’s important, but so you don’t think he’s Hawaiian and later in some other post if I mention he’s half black and half white you don’t go, “but I thought he was Hawaiian.” This happens a lot.

Anyway, I digress, we have family, ‘ohana, visiting from Hawaii. I love that I just wrote “we have family” and not “he has family” visiting. We have been together for eight years and this is only the second time I’ve seen his mother. I’ve never been to Hawaii and she’s only visited us once before. She didn’t even come for our wedding; it took us having a child for her to come again.

We have no family here other than us. It’s always just Put Pie, daddy, and me. This month we’ve been fortunate to have family from both sides come to spend time with Put Pie. Can I tell you how wonderful it is to see my daughter being held in the loving arms of our extended family?

I grew up in a huge family. My mother has 12 brothers and sisters. I was surrounded by more tios, tias, primos, and primas than I could count. Sadly, my daughter will not have the same experience.

When I became old enough to move, I moved. I needed space. I was sick of familia always being there; they crowded me. There was no room for “Me”. I couldn’t get away from them fast enough. No matter how distant I was in space and in thought; they’d find me, bring me back, and remind me I was one of them.

My wish for my daughter is that she gets a chance to be sick of her family too.

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