Hula was lifted again; removed from the perch she has sat on for many days. She’s not quite sure how many days she’s spent in the window, but she started when she was able to smell the purples and browns from the trees, their colors bleeding down upon the ground. She watched as the trees lost their color and soon became like brown stone, bare save for the squirrels planning for the long months ahead. Soon she saw a blanket of white covering the landscape that was opened up before her. She felt the bitter wind through the crack of the windows she sat in front. The cold never forced her from her dance and swaying that hypnotized the female giant that brought her to her new home. She stayed there as the trees became caricatures of their spring selves and the winter ground grew a salt and pepper visage.
She noticed the warmth coming from her window; smelled the lilacs and mimosa that breezed through the window. Pastels were everywhere on her landscape. Pinks and purples; yellows and greens. It was spring. She remembered these colors from her first home. She was made in the spring, but the aromas of her home were very different from there.
In the beginning, when she was born, she and her sisters would sway non-stop from the flourescent lights of the factory. The clanking and swishing of the big metal creators often terrified her; she felt no desire to worship them. She remembers how she was made- at least her assembly. She has no recollection of the amniotic plastic of which she came from. She was born but couldn’t see; she couldn’t sway. She recalls a woman, one of the giants, who placed her head on her torso. She remembers bristles on her face, caressing her, and at once she could see. The woman giant who gave her sight had a kind round face with shiny black hair, similar to her own. Her large nimble hands, gave her the smile and rosy cheeks that would mark her perpetual sunny disposition. She would never know sadness, now. She felt herself moving down rollers, another set of hands gave her arms, and yet another gave her legs. A gruff looking man giant with a face streaked with wrinkles that resembled caverns and streams placed her on her eternal perch, and finally in a box with her other sisters.
She and her sisters sat in that box for several days until they found themselves floating upwards; they could still see the light from the factory lights push through a crack along the side of their box and suddenly the light was gone. They heard a sound that exploded in their ears; shook the floor at which their box sat, and smelled the familiar aroma of diesel as they started moving again. They were on their way to the next part of their journey.
They traveled down the bustling of Hong Kong or Beijing, noticing the sounds of honking horns, the whistling of bikes passing by. Voices of vendors and customers bickering for goods; commuters traveling to their destinations. She could smell the arid smoke of the factory stacks that she once called home mingled with the incense of jasmine and ginger.
Through her travels she encounter all kinds of creatures curious about her and her sisters. Small animals with large teeth and tails would sniff at their box and scratch to get in. Spiders would find their way in and make a home for themselves. They would have babies and they would break from their pod and swarm, flying away on string, far away from their mother. She endured unbearable smells of filth and death as many of the creatures that became their neighbors met their own maker right beside them.
Then she saw light again. She recognized the fluorescent lights and thought she had returned back to the factory. She realized that this was not the case. When the giants spoke she could not understand them. She and her sisters were being unpacked by a cigarette smelling female giant. The giant placed them on a cold flat surface. She was to learn it was called a “dollar store in upstate New York” , and it was here that the elderly woman bought her and where she would eventually find herself in the hands of the giant that would be her owner.
She thought she would be there forever. She was wrong. She found herself , once gain in a box. Instead of her sisters as companions, she had cat figurines. Her trip this time was short, as she soon found the light shine from the top of her box and the soft hands of her female giant lifting her up and setting her on a windowsill much like the one she just left. The giant opened her new window and she welcomed the soft breeze fighting to reach her through the holes of the screens. Each hole letting in a just fraction of the sun and wind to come in, but when placed together they become one A rosebush was directly below her , but it had not bloomed yet. She would have to wait to smell its sweet perfume . She heard squirrels scurrying up trees ; they were playing a game of tag with one another. She heard the chattering of the turkeys in the field. The males calling out to the females, strutting their feathers to get their attention. Babies would be coming soon. She saw a mamma rabbit tending her babies. The babies resembled the stuffed animals that she saw at the old factory and her dollar store.
Hula hears a woman weeping the distance.
It was her woman giant. There she sat on the stoop of their new house, hands cupping her face. Hula could see tears streamed down. She could smell the salt from her tears , mixed with the sweet mimosa from the field next door. “Look at me”, she called to the woman. You like to watch me when I dance. Come dance with me, and I will make you whole”. The woman’s weeping subsided and hula heard the woman’s soft gasps of air and she calmed down. She heard the woman come inside and there she was standing before her. “I know why you cry, “ she told the woman. “You cry because you feel lost and alone. I felt like that once, too. And then I came here and you watched me dance.” The Woman looked at her through watery eyes, smiled at her Hula Girl. She watched the hula sing and dance. The dance has become her new voice and her new song.