FOMO

teddit

a year ago, i woke up miles from lahaina burning to the ground.

thousands lost their homes, a hundred lost their lives.

i lost nothing except for a carefree vacation, which is nothing relative to everything.

we spent the week in red cross evacuation centers and, when they were full, we slept under the stars in the bed of the pickup truck.

sixteen year old me would have reveled at the charm of a spontaneous surf trip to hawaii. if only she knew the circumstances, i thought to myself one night.

why do we so often romanticize that sense of freedom, that connection to nature over the very real physical discomfort one can only feel from awkward hours pressed against the cold, unrelenting ridges of a truck’s metal frame?

i smile, knowing the answer. comfort is no match for human’s desire for what is primal and raw.

i feel something hit my forehead, then my bare shoulder. my eyes shoot open. the silhouette of trees sway under moonlit clouds beginning to burst with rain. 

i close my eyes. 

i feel it all.