What was, and is, and could've beens Part 1

"Honu is known by many names, and countless stories begin with her and her shell. This bit of medicine could not be told without her." Hi'iaka fondled the soft pouch, the contents softly rattling like stones rolling, tumbling at the ocean's edge. Pale relaxed into the soft sound, entranced, a lullaby reminding her of the music Trees make when the wind blows through. The old witch teetered, and came to rest like a girl at her kindergarten desk. Instinctive movement. Arms crossed. Hands a pillow. Nap-time. Yes, that was it. Her breath released deeply. Sleep and dreams took her quickly.

"Somaia of the South had lived more than two hundred cycles and in his sphere of the Cosmos, his age and experiences were valued as an elder. His quiet presence was delightful, and Oona’s twins were especially taken by the old fisherman’s talent for spinning. At least that is what the two young girls called the thing Somaia did with the fine threads that drew from just below his bill, high in the chest of the salmon-colored Wood Crafter of the Islanders. Seated on a large flat stone the two girls and their quickly adopted uncle, Somaia of the South spun and wove intricate patterns of netting in a size that perfectly fit the small spread of the girls’ present talon’s grasp. “Spin me one like a swallow also, Uncle Somaia,” Glenda with the braid of golden feathers like her mother cried.There was no end to the salmon one’s patience. He was born to entertain and satisfy the needs of little ones, and as if Fate had finally approved a second chance, Freeilll Noa’s loyal friend seemed to have found grand-children to love. "

Pale found herself listening to a story. Looking around she could not find the storyteller. A disembodied teller? A magical presence. Anything is possible in dreams. She looked down to see herself much changed. She was Bird with feathers the same color as the purple Rose of Sharon. At this point Pale was not sure how large a bird she was, but, it made no never mind. She was a bird. Pale kept her place and listened.

" Oona found Somaia perched on a limb bobbing gentling above two golden heads circled peacefully into their soft, downy wings. The twins were napping, the sun’s light soft in the skies of Ever. The old man dosed with the swaying motion, resting from a day that had until today, been a vision of unrealized possibility. A contentment and satisfaction glowed from the old man rendering him a different man, a younger version of himself. Oona felt herself tingle with an emotion she found unexpected: fondness or perhaps something growing beyond it. Raising the twins since the passing of her mate shortly after Glenda and Glennis were four cycles had not been difficult. Wood Crafters complemented the care of young without a second thought. No young ones were without frequent and regular touching, unlimited exposure to joy, laughter and song, and encouraging the graces blessed upon each unique soul. Still, her feminine nature enjoys the attraction of a graceful male and there was something very appealing about the red-feathered male now softly snoring in the branch just above her daughters.

The teller's voice was familiar. "You recognize it, don't you?" A large Bird, one of a size she'd never imagined possible stood at her back. She felt it before she saw it.

"I do. I was thinking how familiar the voice is."

"It is your voice Pale of the Borders. It is you telling the story of a small orange bird from the oceans of your Ancestral Past. In the innocence of a daytime nap, this story will take you in and through many times. I wonder? Did you bring the magic?"

Pale wondered whether she did. Being a Purple Bird seemed a good trick. But the storyteller was undeterred from the question. "The safety pins. Did you bring them?"

Ahhh, well some things remain unchanged. "Of course!" Pinned to her honeycomb mask. In place of the mask Pale felt ... a beak. Dangling from the feathers around her head was the orange thread and scalloped shell she wore around her head. The shell was secured with a safety pin. She answered, "I have one pin."

"Very good. Then one is just the right number. And yes, you are telling this story and it will stretch your talent for kaona in ways your ancestors will sing about in the past. Make no doubt about it. Didn't some wise human say something about having learned everything he ever needed to know in kindergarten?" Pale felt herself jiggle. It wasn't a giggle or a jitter, but it was a jiggle and that was something new. A great way to start a new story.

"Or, connect an old one in a new way." The Voice was laughing. Pale loved that she knew what that laughter was bred from. Hmmmm. She had always loved kindergarten, and Mrs. Quon.

Swallow tales

You know the sense of a place by the way it braids itself with your heart. Memories can sometimes tangle, collapsing the smooth flowing course of life. Here in the room where once a younger Border Witch lay on a bed of stones, the braid was a loose over and under affair. Pale felt at once younger than she was back then yet older than the past.

"It's a peculiar emotion, isn't it?" Hi'iaka was eavesdropping on her. 

"What exactly would you call that?" For a lifetime, and at different times, Pale called it longing or homesickness. "Longing for what I loved when the only mask I wore was to tell a particularly juicy story. Performance art." The goddess pulled a chair out from the small table overlooking the cliff below. Rain pelted. She raised the window a couple inches. "Honu will appreciate an easy entrance."
Settled now, Hi'iaka encourage Pale to unfurl. "Living here in this place for nearly fifty years, it has become as comfortable and dependable as my soft chenille slippers. In and out, my feet fill the soles and my soul in turn. But I miss the home of my valley, the smells of pakalana, the feel of fresh manapua and the first bite rich with pork. Pork!"

"Ah, the language of heart and soul is the language that avails itself of all utterance and hums fill in the crevices making a home like a species of Moss. Your dear Silver man calls you a name for the sweet sticky goodness gathered by bees. Miel ... to say it as a Native makes me salivate." Goddess humor was such welcome company. Pale was laughing out loud when the soft glow of Fairy Lady came through the bedroom door. Hi'iaka rose enveloping the pixie in her strong arm she lifted Lady off her feet. The tea pot wobbled. Pale reached for it.

Pale set the pot in the middle of the table, went to the open-shelf lined with mugs, cups, saucers and plates. "Mug or cup and saucer?" Hi'iaka thought a dainty cup of tea would be such fun. Pale chose the lavender mug. "Will you join us Lady?" She nodded, glowing golden behind her kitchen apron with obvious delight.The Lady always liked a cup and saucer.

The bag was filled with four scones, two each of ginger-lemon and cranberries with slivered almonds. It was delightful to see that the beautiful old hand-painted dish with the slight chip in it was still there. Pale mounded the goodies onto the plate. The feeling of longing doubled.

Tea poured and the trio amiably dunking, nibbling and sipping between friendship, Pale finally pulled out the package Kate had handed her. The plastic Ziploc held a triangular fold of brittle leaves. "La'i" Pale was surprised to feel an old friend. Once waxy the faded leaf was nearly the same color as the feathers on the Campbell hen. Laying the leaves flat a roll the friends saw weathered paper no larger than the Lady's small hand . Opening it the Border Witch saw it was a piece of ...

Hi'iaka hummed. "It is a piece of an old story. A Swallows' tale and it has come to remind the muli, the ones that are the youngest sister and brothers--Humans--of their place in the order of things."

My own dear sister and I were the first born from the promise of reckoning the smallness of beings. Shelela and your own dear story teller were the Wood Crafters first lineage of Swallows. In our fashion we have paid well the attending of grace for the littlest of details and the finest of reserved nature. Nuance and peculiarities have been my particular favorites. It pays to have such grace when it is remembering the story that is your kuleana your responsibility. My twin sister has nurtured the love of small shiny things, some as minute as grains of sand others as grand as gold specks in the eyes of a wandering witch. 

Muli. That word and all its kaona meanings hidden or so clearly in the open had been cropping up again and over again. How plump the kaona grew thought the Border Witch. Just where will the loose fitting garment, the holoku, take us now that we have gathered where safety pins hold life together? Reading between and into the lines was something Fairy Lady was primed and fit to employ. It is the reason small has such long-lasting value. Though she was not privy, nor nosey, about the conversation she walked in on, The faded bit of old story filled in the cracks as surely as her cookie cutters made moons, stars and ducks from the succulent cinnamon toast.

This room when guests did not need it was Fairy Lady's special place. She stored old and new treasure and pouches filled with stones and stories. Today she knew just which pouch needed to join them. Along the walls at different levels lengths of beautiful colored ribbon were strung from side to side. Safety pins and wooden clothes pins, clothes pins made with stout and proper springs, held pictures, collections of drawings, shells dangling from orange string; and pouches of different sizes.

Fluttering to get at what she wanted Lady released a plain leather pouch from a clothes pin. It was heavy. "This is where you'll find the rest of that story. The story called Wood Crafters a tale of collection and hording, greed and correction. It is the story of older times, and now it is a story for today." With that said in her quivering voice, the Fairy slipped into this time and went back to her toast making.

the pouch of Gathered Magic

On another day a duck could love

"Let's go back to the cottage." Rain was coming in sideways, not a Border Witch's favorite expression of Nature. Honu was not ma'a with riding in a car, and the cottage meant going into the woods, the activity that needed doing was below the sloping banks of Molinas'. The Turtle conned her choice and her reasons, no longer verbal, then changed her mind suddenly, blurting in rapid fire speech "You have the Swallows' tale!" Hi'iaka looked into the vaporous swell that was wind and turtle surprised and laughing as Honu went from one extreme to the other. Not sure what that meant Pale offered, "I've an idea. Let's go to the cafe."
"Perfect!" Hi'iaka missed the company of the Silver-haired Bird and Fairy Lady. And the venture taking place would need the medicine of the All. How better to do that than to include them, and, the mana of a place dedicated to common magic.
"I will meet you there," Honu had not yet made her physical form available to the Border Witch, that could wait a few minutes. "Get started without me," the Turtle was gone.

Though it was a different time, and different season, it was a day only a duck could love. A parking space right in front of The Safety Pin Cafe waited. A pair of Campbells their soft khaki feathers shimmering from the downpour were most appreciate to see the two women walking toward the front door. "Oh I love Ducks," Hi'iaka acknowledged the hen with a curtsy, the drake quacked his thanks as the door was pulled open for the four of them, two Khaki Campbells, one Goddess, and an old Border Witch.

Inside the hen made a grand show at shaking and shedding rain, leaving the signature puddles the regulars knew. A sweet bustle and banter and people laughing warmed The Safety Pin Cafe. Both wing-tips holding a mug of steaming peppermint tea and a platter of cinnamon toast cut into stars, moons and ducks the Silver-haired Raven, slightly-stooped but no less handsome beamed at the sight of his partner and the visiting Sister of Pele. "Miel," he crossed the room and leaned in for a kiss from his wife. Once freed and finished with his conversation Raven approached the goddess. The two exchanged honi one forehead to the other as breath informed and welcomed.

"We'd like to go upstairs," Pale explained. "Business of the most common sort is in the making." Raven nodded, "And where better for that than here." Pale was still carrying the white pastry bag filled with scones.

"I see you've brought your own morsels. Tea?" Both the women agreed a pot of peppermint would suit them. "I'll leave you to it then." The morning's business was brisk, the Fairy was busy toasting cinnamon bread but she waved through the pass-through. If she was needed she would join them.

Cross hatch

"I like the rose," Kate pointed at the small red rose sown to the side of Pale's mask. "And you've taken to wearing purple." This time the librarian reached for the Rose of Sharon, the Purple Hibiscus tucked behind Pale's ear.

"You're very observant." Smiling behind the honeycomb mask Pale wished she could be with Kate without it. But, a lingering fragrance enveloped the woman. This would need to be a quick chat. "You know I'm fragrance sensitive  Kate so please don't take offense if I don't stay long." Over the past few years her sensitivities had become more acute and as she aged it took longer to recover from the dips on the way to a rebound. Kate nodded, "No offense will be taken. Sorry, I forgot about that. I'll be quick. But if you have to leave ..." She pulled a small parcel wrapped in a plastic bag. "Take this with you, and when you've had a chance to look at it and read it, call me."

"You asked about Swallows. The last time I was in here a family of resident Swallows had their nests right back there." The deep eaves of the restaurant made wonderful places for mud and bits of grasses. "I love that Linda never tried to get rid of them."

"She loved them surely. Not the sanitary standard though, and that did bother the health inspectors. But the lady and the Swallows did what had to be done, and in the end Swallow nests stayed." Pale thought about the relationships between birds and people and a confirming warmth pulsed. It was those safety pins. Safety pins. Silver-haired Raven. Cross-hatcheries.

Kate was careful not to lean in to talk. "Swallows and I have this very close affinity. If I had wings it would be their wings, with a split in my tail for aerodynamics. Anyway, last time I was here what's in that small parcel was given to me by that Swallow family. They literally dropped it at my feet." Pale knew she'd reached her limit of scent. "That's amazing." Reaching for the package Pale said, "I've gotta go Kate. Tres mystery. I love a good story. I have your number."

Outside the air was thickening. Moisture and the first drops of rain caught in her hair, trickled down her nose and under the mask. Pale pulled the red hood on her windbreaker over her head and scanned for the goddess. "You won't find them if you look!" It was the voice of her dear friend, one of the Sweet Sisters. In her mind Pale saw her friend. Right. She will allow herself to be seen when she's ready.

Back in the car, the rain had turned serious. Glad for the shelter Pale reached for the Lemon-Ginger scone still warm. Breaking the tip of it, Pale savored the first bite. Still as wonderful as ever. Sad, somehow, to think the pastry would keep being delicious because the recipe had been carefully preserved. She missed the presence of Molina. Hi'iaka was not yet back and on an impulse Pale fished in her pocket for the pins. "The place is in need of being held together. Pin them into the screen of the front door." Her Ma kept track of where safety pins could do the most practical of magic. Answering Pale said, "Of course!" At the very least the pins would allow common crossings particular to this place. As soon as the smallest of pins was secure Pale felt the breeze and saw the two conspirators.

Gathering

A mature 'Ohia-Lehua tree, one of Hi'iaka's kinolau or favored body forms, can be a low-growing shrub or a ten foot tree. In their native home there is room for versatility in appearance. Most comfortable in the Pacific Islands of her birth, the Goddess Hi'iaka traveled for very special reasons: specific assignments, and always with recovery or restoration of balance a primary goal. In her transportable form, Pale's aumakua, her family guardian, rode the updraft of the Snapping Turtle Wind. The wind circled the roof and buffeted the windows of Molinas'.

"You have a frothiness about you makani. Is that anger or hunger you assail at this place?" Direct in her questioning it was an indication the goddess was wasting no time. From a tuck in her kikepa she withdrew a short length of ocean algae, limu. Rubbing the limu between her palms the algae turned to dark green dust. Hi'iaka blew the limu into the wind. Hoku, the Sea Turtle ate the gift. A sigh of appreciation rose from the roof near the back door of the bakery.

"We are here for the same purpose, Goddess of the Egg. This place where such goodness. Good food and company has grown, there is a sadness. How do Humans mourn if they are not honest with that emotion -- grief?"

"It sticks like sour poi left in the bowl too long!" The two travelers enjoyed the shared imagery.

"Yes, it sticks and then flakes, and good food is wasted as well." Honu smacked her jaws appreciatively. "The limu ... it was very good quality."

Molinas' was an old and established community gathering hole built to take full advantage of the view and the access to the tide flats that edged the island. In the long past glaciers had dredged deep a passage for the largest among the Beings. It was this connection that Honu and Hi'iaka were playing with.

"The girl is a muli ... as in Muliwai. She was born between the fresh and salty ocean waters of Beings on this planet. Not just the youngest sister, or daughter, this girl belongs to the Waters." Hoku is not much of a talker, but the nourishment of the premium limu sustained her storytelling.

"Once her mother-sister ho'olele passed out of that lovely woman's form there was very little connection. no land-based hold on the girl Shine. Her cords are mightily involved with the voice of Kohola. The Whale. They are moving through these waters, most of them are already gone to other places. But. One pod remains. And they are working their kuleana to initiate that girl. They called her from that ferry."

"Shine is alive?"

"Yes."

"Can we, together, find her?"

"Yes. But, she will not be the same girl this community knew before. We have until the start of the new year. When The Sisters rise on the horizon, and the Hilo moon follows. I mean, you and me together will find her, prepare her for her journey. Then, she will decide if she'll return." Hoku closed her mouth, and her eyes. The length of telling pressed at her limits for verbalization. Telepathy was their preferred communication. Now there was time to digest the story.

Old standards

"You go ahead, Border Weed." Hi'iaka had turned nearly translucent, physical to her kin she reserved her mana but was already scanning for the clues she came for.

"What kind of scone do you want?" Pale poked her head back into the car in time to see the goddess disappear.

"Cranberry if they have them. Lemon-ginger if they don't." She was a woman of red but also love the zest of lemon and root together. "Keep your mask on, dear. You'll need it." With that last precaution a shimmer of vapor rose and slipped to the outdoors.

An old habit, Pale checked for safety pins. In the right pocket of her red windbreaker she felt. Three old standards. The weather had shifted over the weekend. Dry heat through the summer was replaced with the snapping wind, Turtle Wind. Pale pulled the hood over her head, and pushed the bakery door in.

For a Monday, it was the quiet that was so loud. A cheerful woman mid-aged and middle size greeted Pale, "Morning." The woman looked up from the large hot latte she was stirring. A design of concentric hearts would greet its recipient. The signature Molinas' scones filled the tiered glass case on the counter. A small sign read Lemon-Ginger & Cranberry. Well that will be an easy choice.

Pale looked around at the familiar interior. The solid seats, the cozy booths, and stools for sitting at the breakfast bar. A small stage had been added a few years ago, when Shine began her gigs. Sonics was the name of her style and her band. Three musicians, Stan Costa on Bass, Sara Mott and Casey Nakano did harmony. Shine was a vocalizer, a surrealistic blend of nature's sounds in a woman's body. A special acoustic system was built into Molinas'. It was Stan's brainchild meant to allow for conversation and music to gently be together. No competing for airwaves, the effect was exactly that ... gentling. 

"Wow, it's really quiet in here," when the woman with bright green framed glasses came for her latte, Pale recognized her as one of the town librarians. Smiling at each other the librarian said, "Yeah, it's so strange. Sad really. It's like we're all in mourning and don't know exactly how to do it." Pale considered the observation. This was a town of many retirees, and even more old-timers who liked the idea of living-through right here. 

Kate Piers was not only a town librarian she was also very fond of following Swallows. Pale remembered that for some reason and asked, "How are the Swallows this year?" honestly curious about the habits of the split-tailed wonders of the sky. Encouraged that she'd remembered her love for these beauties, Kate tipped her head, looking deeply through the circles of green metal. "Do you have a few minutes to chat?" 

With her mask still in place, Pale recognized an opportunity for a good story. Hi'ikaka was perfectly capable of entertaining herself, and as any old sleuth would tell you, the game seemed to be afoot. "Yes, I do," answered Pale. Kate pointed to her large carpetbag of a purse on a nearby booth seat. "I'll order my bootie and be with you in a minute."

Driving the Goddess

Molinas' Bakery was at the opposite end of town from The Safety Pin Cafe. The two eateries both wore their magic clear and simple. At The Pin Ducks still waited for Human People to open the front door, pushing in, and both species loved the smell of almond milk and peppermint tea. The Fairy Lady still baked the best apple pies, and Raven Clan served it up with charm and tea making sure there was room for kitties of all colors on the window ledges. The upstairs rooms maintained space for the Faceless, and it was Maha's grand-daughter who read the cards. Some things don't change.

Linda Molinas' sudden passing and her young daughter Shine's disappearance captured the collective breath in this town. There was no way around it. Now Pale was driving a goddess, and this was not just your any sort of goddess. This was the youngest, and most favored sister of The Goddess of Fire. This was the sister whose instructions kuleana included first-aid and it's polar, the ability to take life. "I don't suppose you're here for the scones." It wasn't a question exactly, but, Hi'iaka roared with the humor Pale Wawae tried so hard to hide. "Such a thin veil you wear Pale. Still trying to hide all that light. Of course I'm here for the scones." Whoever made up the lie about the Ancestors being humorless must have been an atheist.

"Why not. The Molinas' reputation for that pastry travels like spore on a trade wind." From the corner of her right-eye Pale saw the vaporous ripple of transfiguration. Hi'iaka the beautiful leaned into the back of the headrest. Her hair was black, but streaked through with silver and ehu. She had chosen a familiar package to present herself, but it was the scent of her that was unmistakable. Sulfurous. A lei po'o of moss encircled her head. Of course, without the mosses, there were no places for seed or 'ili rootlets to gain footage.

"Do you need the mosses to root yourself?" It was a direct question, and Pale knew it might be disrespectful to ask aloud so she kept the question a thought and hoped her curiosity would not float. "You've been reading ... about moss." Hi'iaka was listening and thoughts were of course the domain of spirits. She was kind and offered Pale a way to talk about her question.

"I have been. With great respect for the fabric of living things I re-read the stories of a scientist and poet I would love to call friend. She has spent a lifetime on her hands and knees getting to know moss. Her writing is about lands different than the volcanic, so I wondered whether you who are the first up after Pele has laid bare the land. You begin again from tiny rootlet. Do you? Do you require moss as well?"

"It's true tiny rootlets allow me to grow in the crevices of lava flow. There I will not require moss. But, a tiny seed from my blossom. She will welcome the comfort of soft moss as she waits for ua --a raindrop, a shower. Moss is the plant for starting life again."

Talking botany with the Goddess, now that needs to go into a story.