January 23, 2024

dreaming of elsewhere

It should surprise no one that, as the thermometer plummets, I’m trolling
real estate listings in Hawaii. The Big Island, on the northwest side, 
looks especially promising, but there’s more to choose from in Honolulu 
if I’m okay with closer neighbors. In my mind, I slim my belongings down 
by two-thirds, donate my winter coat and bid farewell to the ragged army 
of wool socks, pack a cocktail shaker and flip-flops in my carry-on, and go.
Here, outside, the wind whips through evergreens—free, free—and the waves—
wish, wish—meet the shoreline in concentric shapes. Downstairs, I hear the cat
mewling for her lunch and the sound travels to where I’m leafing through 
lanais and rooms I’ll never live in, pressing “return” again and again.