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Our slice of tropical sunshine, of course, drifted to an end. The Christmas tree constructed of toilet paper rolls and bath towels, deconstructed. The chickens fed one last time. A final hibiscus flower stuck behind an ear and we vanished into the dawn. (Marching orders to be vacated from the premises 9am promptly.)
The movie on the flight back was Lilo and Stitch. Hawaii, vintage Elvis songs, Godzilla references, what's not to love? Of course, I cried because I cry at all movies. In this case, I identified heavily with the character of Stitch, a monster created to do one thing — to destroy cities, disrupt power and communication grids, to steal all the left shoes — but was thwarted from doing that one thing. The line they kept repeating to each other in the movie was, "Ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind". There I sat, row 21, seat D, wet with tears, someone who'd spent their whole life becoming better at this computer thang and I'd been cruelly tossed off, disconnected, most definitely left behind. No white board of bugs to fix, no Gantt charts with impossible schedules, no cities to destroy, no left shoes to steal.
While we were gone, the bay area had suffered through the worst winter storm in decades. Our house, always been the most delicate of organisms, suffers when we leave it for extended periods. It seems to miss us when we're gone. There were signs the power had been on and off and on and off repeatedly. There was a large puddle of water in the living room beneath a light fixture. The glass door on the fireplace had blown open and the ashes scattered throughout the house by the wind down the chimney. The yard was filled with broken branches and debris.
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And more ominous, our DSL provider had vanished in a puff of smoke, gone out of business, leaving us an email that they could not provide further service, but would continue to bill us until we discontinued our account via a web page. A web page that only worked on a Windows box, not any of the Macs that fill our back bedroom. The only PC in our house is a 160 MHz Windows 95 box with a 2400 baud modem that cowers in the corner.
Yet, on the answering machine was a small blinking red light. Someone wanted to hire me. Build a team and run it to deliver this cool new product. A much better job than the one I'd been misplaced from. A company I had always wanted to work for, but been rejected in the past. The universe, despite appearances to the contrary, had taken care of me after all. OK, it's programming Windows OS, but they tell me that a little suffering is good for the soul...
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Someday when we are old and our souls have been sufficiently strengthened by all our suffering, you and I will live in paradise with the salt-encrusted horses and the sandy children in the smallest of swimsuits, demanding we admire them, and our bathing suits will stay up when we surf.
We'll meet up there. I promise.
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