Arrival with a Carryon

In the wake of calm tranquilizing rifts that hug the curves of his land, a barrier to keep  life inwards to never fall distant. Some in syncope wake to new lands beyond this border Kanē created, and echo the voice of goodwill wishing his children safe travels home; when they choose to come home.

Torn from this womb, so called familiar to ear and eye, nurtured in the heart of a shell to protect him. Broken to amend his family sins, it leeches to his skin and feasts for years. A token of human behavior leaves him without empathy at home, yet he returns.

Every time he comes, pride silences to hold every breath in place. A child of the sea, islands across he comes. 

He’s home, where he should be.

Landing in fresh sea faring air, the soil rich and bathed in the creatures of his heart. They cultivate the land, the very soul of the world. Here she was born and chose to stay, trinity of land, sea and sky, it was peaceful. When the air grew colder and sharpened her features, he left differently. If you asked him now, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember.

Welcome home.

What was home to him? He lived in a small room, four bunks him bottom left. Near the window, next to the-

Training hall.

 Or, what the cadets called it. He went back and forth throughout the week, it became a second home to him, just like,

Hale. Home, the first. 

His eyes opened there first, first steps brought him to where he was now. It hurt to move back, harder than his stumbles on the koa wood, gentle folds of newborn skin rubbing against it. One fall was a step to follow forward, one step pushed him forward to his destiny. Predetermined, unchanging, inevitable, destiny.

The flight felt more rocky, wings weighed down by the concern in his throat, lumped and cancerous- spreading throughout his body. 

‘I need to be there, she needs me there.’

He left his work, he left him. Hands firmly placed in his shoulders, his voice echoing in chambers Kaleo formed in his mind. Morgan White saw potential in this soldier before him, he was Kaleos unchanging, inevitable, destiny. That was how it would be till eternity. Two weeks off of work wouldn't change that. And so with his leave signed off, he left without a word to anyone.

Welcome Home?

No one greets him, no lei can adorn his neck. Kukui trees stand firm in soft hands, the earth rumbling with his arrival. It’s heavy air, the sky seems dull. The birds in the sky fly free, nene leaving their nests for the first time. They greet him as he walks down the swept bay. Is it a cry in anguish(?), in pain(?), in solemn mourning. Sand from the east cheek seeks refuge to the crystal water next. This doesn’t feel like-

Home.

He knocks twice, shoulder sore from the bag strap. It’s tall, unchanging. Two stories, supplies form the land, giving thanks in stable refuge. The sea salt stings his nostrils, the waves are faint, just beyond the road. Blinking once, shifting his feet, the right feels heavier than the left, Kaleo moves but he stops at the click.

The door moves, sliding door shuffles back. He finally is embraced into the arms of someone soft, delicate, broken, or so he was told.

“Oh my god.

Kaleo-

Leo I didn’t think-

You really…

…

Welcome home.”

He clings tightly to his sister and smiled.

“It’s alright. I’m here now, I’m home.”

He’s truly unsure how she’s feeling, last time he was there she was so bubbly and bright. Now she’s…

Quiet, shameful, downcast.

A fraction of herself. It wounded Kaleo more than he expected, even her smile is spread on in half reassurance. He holds her closer, palm across her crown.

“I’m fucking sorry, I’ll make him-“

Her body shakes and shivers, his continuous constriction releases. His emotions got the best of him. Khelani pleads in her face, and with what little words she responds with.

“No. Don’t. I don’t want things to be worse than they are.”

“Mmm ay’. Then know I’ll be kind on your behalf, I’m pissed to hell about this.”

“I’m sorry…”

He pushed to her cheek, his hand softly felt over trembling lips. Shush. 

He kisses her forehead, draws back with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t be saying that. I don’t need you to apologize- I’m happy to be here for you, not like this but. But we will make this work okay?

Hey, I’m happy to be back after what… five years?”

She snuggled into his chest and he patted her back, Khelani liked rubs, as did he.

“Yeah… you saw me in high school right? How do I look?”

He laughed. 

“Cmon, I don't need to tell you that! Well, Lani?”

Kaleo rolled back and dramatically bowed, one arm swayed open, hitting the lehua on his way. Khelani snorts and laughs, and for a moment she seems to have forgotten all of her worries.

“I forgot you had hair! Ohhhhh I missed you soo much-”

She’s talking to his hair he realized, scrunching it in her hands, small curls on the top, it’s shaved on the sides, a choice. He chooses to give his hair a high pitched squeaking voice. 

“Oh I’ve missed you too Khelani- I’ve missed how annoying you are you little brat!”

Khelani knocks his head and giggles some more.

“Hey that’s not nice- leooooo!!”

Different footsteps march forward with more purpose, a power that shakes the very earth they stand on. When he looks up Kaleo straightens himself, eyes in direction of the man before him.

“Makuakane.”

“Kaleo.”

Khelani whips her head around and seems to shake some more. Did she not tell Makoa that his son was coming home? He figured, it was fine, he’d make it fine.

“He aha kāu hana ma ʻaneʻi? You didn’t tell me.”

Kaleo pushes in front of Khelani, she now behind his wall.

“Maopopo iaʻu. e kala mai iaʻu. It’s settled, I took leave. I’m not late for Makahiki.”

“Ay’ you aren’t.”

Makoa falls inside the house, Kaleo kneels back and looks at Khelani. She nervously clutches her own shoulders.

“I’m sorry I should have know that-“

He cups her face once again. A kiss to her forehead, checking for eyes. Two? Good. Keep eye contact. Loosen up, she needs comfort.

“Don’t say sorry. You shouldn’t be saying that. I don’t need you to apologize- I’m happy to be here for you. I will make this work okay?”

Promise again, singular now.

She nods, clinging to around his torso, he breathes in and looks to the door. Taking her hand he walks in, the lei on the door is familiar. So is the chirping.  Snow feathers fly to his head, a pink plume on her head.

“Haukea! Ua hala anei ʻoe iaʻu? Pehea ʻoe e kuʻu mōʻī wahine o ka mokupuni?”

Haukea chirps, her beak on Kaleo’s ear, a little nibble before opening her wings. She announces his appointment, jovial and bright. It’s good, helps open this room.

Home sweet home.