By Jill Steele
Author "Blood on the Orchids"
Owner Hawaiian Magic Tropical Flowers
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| Our new view. The crutches are another story. |
We have officially begun a new life in Hilo after losing our home and all but a few belongings to the lava and spending seven months of limbo in a rental home. We appreciated being there and we’re lucky to find it, but knowing it was temporary made it hard to feel settled. The noise level added to our stress. Hundreds of cars passed by the house each day beginning at 5 a.m. since the highway was directly behind the house and our street was the access road to Honolii Beach Park. For about seven months post lava eruption, until the road to Pohoiki reopened, Honolii was the east side of the Big Island’s only accessible surf spot.
Despite the noise, Hilo was a healing place. Hilo town reminded us that there was still so much beauty left on the Big Island. We felt fortunate despite our misfortune because there were places to discover, ocean views we hadn’t seen and new places to swim. Often during this time, I felt like giving up but I am not built like that. I’m not saying the stress didn’t get to me. It did in the form of a mysterious, still unnamed six week illness, that I’m convinced was stress related. We still miss our peaceful country life in Kapoho but we have come to acceptance. I understand that we are meant to have this new life filled with change. We are making new friends and have become closer during this time of of need with our long time friends.
As I sit with my glass of wine, looking out over Hilo Bay, I am filled with wonder, peace and contentment. Is it human nature to want to see light again after loss? We left our Kapoho home involuntarily. We have our memories of the heaven on earth that was Kapoho. For twenty-five years we were privileged to experience its joys. We swam in the Champagne Pond’s sweet smelling lagoon and its many other ocean accesses and walked the coastline created by the 1960 eruption.
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| Adventures with Luna in Hilo |
As my husband so perfectly put it, “We had a really good run.” We are calling 2018 our year of resilience. Every day since our evacuation from Kapoho on May 30 was a challenge but now that is over. We have found a permanent home in Hilo where sunlight flows into every room. The muscles in my back and shoulders have begun to relax. For me, being settled means being able to focus on one task at a time and not feeling frantic about the ten other things I need to accomplish, such as producing the documents necessary to securing a home loan. I know I am going to have some days soon where I don’t need to get into the car and that thought brings me joy. Now we live in a quiet neighborhood, in a house that doesn’t shake when more than one truck drives by. We can hear birds chirping their wakeup calls, chickens pecking and roosters crowing from our bedroom. Luna, our dog, is getting over her PTSD. We are now able to take long walks again and are exploring our Wainaku neighborhood. I’m loving the wide expansive views of Hilo and the sounds of nature.
I know that soon I will begin writing a follow up to my book “Blood on the Orchids” which though written before the lava, was my tribute to the beauty of Puna and Kapoho. The creativity will flow when there is space and stillness. I will be patient. I am not quite there yet as the days are filled with work and errands as we settle into our new house and make it our own. I still wake up in the middle of the night and fight daily feelings of anxiety, which I am hoping will dissipate with time and the feeling of security.
I recently dreamt I was with my Kapoho neighbor Susan searching through our belongings at our former homes. In the dream there was a moment I realized it was not real. I told her, “We are wasting our time. Our homes are gone.” Maybe this dream was my unconscious telling me to move on and let go. I am ready.
