Anything creative is worth writing down.
So, let's begin...
With the many covers and remix versions of Judy Garland's “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” from The Wizard of Oz, she loved Braddah Iz's version the most. She grew up listening to the deep, melodic voices of the local singers that made their names famous in Hawai`i. Israel Kamakawiwa`ole was one of her favorites. Not only was he a talented singer, but also an accomplished musician.
“Somewhere Over The Rainbow” became her song. She learned how to play it on the ukulele, just the way that Iz played it. Her friends thought that was the only thing she could play, because it was all she ever played. But her response was, “It's not the only song I know, just the only one worth playing.” It was her inspirational tune, the track she'd play when she needed to relax, or just a mix of words and music to fill her ears. In the past few months, however, it became the song she listened to that would relieve her of the stress and problems that were going on at home. She was only eighteen years old, the age when life was suppose to be filled with friends, experiencing new things, and growing into the person that she wanted to be. But life had taken a sharp turn and nothing was going right in her life.
It was almost sundown and she had been sitting on the hood of her car for over an hour, looking out at the ocean at Ka`ena Point. Driving out to Wai`anae whenever she needed to be alone became a ritual of escape. It was the farthest place on the island away from her home, and lately all she'd been feeling was the need to get away.
It seemed that she had been starting to become very distant from the normalcy of her life. Everyone began to notice it in her behavior, her lack of energy, and most importantly: that she stopped singing and playing her ukulele. Hoku, without music, wasn't Hoku at all.
She knew that things had to change, if she ever wanted to be happy again. It was difficult, without any support from her anger-driven family members, or her self-absorbed friends that had no time for anyone but themselves, but it was time to move on.
She exhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she breathed out slowly. When she reopened them, the sun was closer to the horizon. With one slide off the hood, she walked over and opened the backseat door, grabbing her ukulele with her left hand. Shutting the door behind her, she kept the instrument tight her in fist as she walked out toward the beach. She found a nice spot about halfway down the sand and sat down, crossing her legs. She cradled the neck in her left hand, lightly placing her fingertips across the strings and frets. Her right hand was loose, hovering over the bottom half of the ukulele, then she began to strum.
It's cool that you can write such short, but complete stories.
ReplyDeleteHow does it feel writing about people and places in Hawaii? I was thinking about how, in everything I've ever written, I can't remember a time when I wrote a story and based it in Tacoma.
Whatever happened with the story you were writing over the summer?