Transplant: 1. To uproot and replant (a growing plant) 2. To transfer from one place of residence to another. [via The Free Dictionary by Farlex]
I am a transplant.
From the sun-kissed shores of Hawaiʻi to the rugged beauty of the old American West in Las Vegas, and now to the lush, fertile embrace of New England—this is the winding path I call home. There have been seasons on this journey where my spirit fractured and my soul felt adrift, yet I held fast, my roots bravely seeking new earth below. "Home"—a word that still feels strange on my tongue, brimming with moments of profound joy and echoing with deep sorrow. Still, I stand steadfast, committed to this new beginning for my family and me.
I’ve had to rekindle, restore, and renovate my Aloha more times than I care to count, pausing to take a breath and recenter. Every fiber of my polynesian DNA yearns for the warmth of the sand beneath my bare feet, the salt-kissed fragrance of the Pacific Ocean, and the vibrant tapestry of Hawaiian culture. And yet, I stay. My mind drifts, thick with golden memories of a childhood bathed in endless Hawaiian sunshine, where the melodic mash-up of cultures created the sweet symphony of "Pidgin English"—pure delight to my ears. No matter the striking beauty or the summer warmth that graces New England, nor the wonderful kindness of its people, I know there is no true comparison to the islands. And while her winters possess a certain magic, they are undeniably long, cold, and grey.
So, I close my eyes. From a safe, deep place within, I conjure crystal blue waves. I feel my paddle glide effortlessly through the ocean, pulling the canoe forward with each rhythmic stroke. In the distance, I hear the familiar strum of my father's guitar, followed by his voice, singing the hula songs that cradled my youth. I sink deeper, further back, sleepily climbing onto my mother's lap. She holds me close, stroking my hair, and I breathe in the distinct scent of kiawe wood burning on an open campfire at Mākaha beach. And in that instant, I am completely swept away, lost in the sweet embrace of Hawaiʻi Nei.
Slowly, I return to the present, to New England. She seems to sense my journey, welcoming me back with her vibrant autumn colors and caressing me with the gentle shifts of her seasons. My eyes open slowly, and a smile touches my lips. Yes, I can call this place home, for now. I bring my Aloha to the surface, a radiant light I willingly share with those who open their hearts to receive it. I absorb the unique culture and profound kindness from the community around me. My inner light, once hesitant, now begins to shine with growing confidence. I take root. I am here, beautifully transplanted on the East Coast. My journey, my flow, has brought me to this specific place and time. I chose to be here. My family surrounds me, and in their presence, I am pono—balanced, centered, whole. My Aloha expands, my soul awakens, and I continue to grow. Until we meet again, my sweet Hawaiʻi, Aloha ʻOe for now.
Namaste sweet ones & Malama pono always~
Lynette Haunani