moment

once upon a time someone asked me what the best moment of my life had been.

he told me that his had been on the streets of some city in europe at night and the lights were shining off the rain on the cobblestones and music was playing like that in movies, or something beautiful and rich and poetic like that. the kind of place i’d never been able to afford or had the opportunity to visit.

and his question, followed by that answer, stumped me. i didn’t know what my moment was.

recently i was on the other side of the island with my friend jaime. it was almost sunset and we decided to pull over at a beach and wait for it, because we had nowhere better to be, or anything else to do. and we ended up at this beach that i used to visit when i lived there.

it’s not the kind of beach they make post cards out of. there’s a big parking lot and a wall and no sand, just some rocks that the water laps up against. there’s a little dock area where rowing teams meet and set up their canoes. the waves aren’t big or scary so many people kayak or paddle surf there.

i lived in an apartment close to this beach for about a month when i first moved to hawaii. i wasn’t working yet, so i’d spend my morning walking to the library or the bank or the grocery store. i’d come home and make banana pancakes for lunch and spend the afternoon at the pool reading books and cooling off by swimming laps. in the evening i’d often walk to the beach.

and somehow, at that beach, God told me i would be just fine. somehow the mixture of sunset and the sea and the breeze blowing through my hair convinced me that i wasn’t as alone as it sometimes seemed, that i was meant to be and to be here. and it wasn’t a singular event, but every time i went there, this peace would fill me and i’d go home and make pasta for dinner and ice cream for dessert and go to bed and sleep without all the frenetic worrying and what-if’s that will and have and do keep me awake.

so jaime and i went to this beach and as i pulled the car into a parking spot right next to the wall by the ocean, it caught me off guard. it took me back to a simpler time and place when this whole island was new and unknown and i knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Someone was taking care of me and i should not fret, everything would work out just fine.

all of a sudden i couldn’t speak, there was no way to explain to her what this place is to me. how deeply this singular spot on the globe means to me.

if you ask me tomorrow what the best moment of my life has been, where that place is that has changed me, i will tell you. it’s that beach in hawaii kai that isn’t really a beach. it’s that place where i can stand with my feet in the water and know deeply, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that i should not worry, all will be well.

wo jiao automan

(four years ago today we met trace for the first time)

when we received my brother trace he came with a shopping bag full of things: a fast-food sandwich, a boiled egg, some clothes, dried seaweed and his favorite toys. he clung to his toy gun for days. he even slept with it (and me. i had never slept with a gun before.)

by day two we knew that his guns weren’t just any guns. they were automan guns. everyday we learned more about automan. we bought automan dvds and we watched them together for comfort when he remembered that his foster mama and baba were gone. when he forgot that he missed them, he would shoot us as we cowered behind beds, chairs and suitcases and he would act out all of automan’s moves. when trace came to us, he was wearing a blue automan shirt. several months after he came home, he showed us how in his referral picture, he was wearing his favorite automan outfit.

when we got to guangzhou trace would run around the island with his gun or his sword- or a chopstick, or a water bottle, or a tree branch- anything that could be a weapon. all the parents of docile infant girls would look on in awe as he ran around wearing his automan mask, combating the grim forces of evil that were sure to be lurking behind every tree or stroller, my mom and i four steps behind, chatting like this was perfectly normal.

*

it was a chilly march morning. a pollution filled haze mixed with a thick, cool fog enveloped shamian island. the keepers of the big trinket tables were out, enjoying a quiet morning under the palm trees, basking in the smell radiating from the 7-11 food warmers. one of the women called out to trace: “ni hao! ta jiao shenme?” (hello, what’s your name).

“wo jiao automan,” (my name is automan) he answered without skipping a beat.

i smiled as she laughed. this was trace. wherever these two american women took him, he would be just fine. he was automan, and he could- and would- overcome anything that came his way.