Hula Girl

She sits on my windowsill. I had put her there for the cats to watch. She moves her hips, back a forth with the energy of the sun. I thought the cats may like her constant movement, but they were indifferent as cats can be.  She has traveled far and wide to get here.  She traveled from the factories and warehouses of china, to an elderly woman who lived in my and my sister’s apartment complex, to my sister, and finally her travels ended with me.

My sister is in love with Hawaii.   She had traveled there once and thought she found the love of her life there.  He worked as a Hula Dancer at the hotel she was staying.  She struck up a holiday romance with him, but soon found out that she was only one of many having a holiday with him.  it was heartbreaking for my sister to find out that the love of  her life was in fact, just a Samoan gigolo,;  that doesn’t keep her for pining for him and the lush shores of Hawaii.  The elderly woman, Alice, knew of Karen’s love for Hawaii. Karen spent a few hours each Sunday, administering the Eucharist and saying prayers with her.  Karen does this for many of the elderly woman in our complex who cannot attend church, being that they are too infirmed.  Alice gave the hula girl to Karen thinking she would like it.  Karen had it on her window sill for a few days, but  the  constant, click, click, click of Hula’s  disjointed hips drove her crazy.   I took it from her hands.

My Hula girl is activated by the sun. The sunnier the day, the more she sways from side to side. Her hips make a rhythmic click, click, click as they move. She has a perpetual sunny disposition, even on rainy days when she remains quite still .The window she calls home is large and picturesque. Oak and lilac trees line outside of our window. In the springtime when the window is open the perfume of the lilacs consumes the apartment. On breezy days their limbs sway to the same rhythms as her. I watch both the trees and her most days. The only sounds in my apartment are the metronomic sounds of Hula, the sporadic phtt, phtt, phtt sputtering of my heat register, and the squeak of my rocking chair. I watch her for hours sometimes. I concentrate on her movements and the sounds.  When I do this my mind quiets down; I can’t hear the negative thoughts in my head. The voice sounds distant and muffled. I can hear “click, click, click”.” Phtttt, phttt, phttt”. “Squeak, squeak, squeak”. I can’t hear,” You’re a failure.” “You’re worthless” ” You have no future”. “Just give up because your life is over”.  At night when she sleeps, I sometimes hear the voice again, but I look at Hula and they silence.  Hula is winning. For now.

Today is bright and sunny. Hula is happy.   My Hawaiian friend from China who sits on my windowsill will help make me whole once again.

Click, Click, Click. Sway, Sway Sway.

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