Chapter Two

Growing up, my grandparents lived about 2.5thousand miles from me. Except for the annual summer visit, we never saw each other much. When I graduated from high school, they offered to let me live with them (Can anybody turn down free room and board in achingly-expensive Honolulu? Didn't think so.) Next week marks the end of two years with Tutu and Papa.

I can't even begin to put into words what my time here has meant to me, what it's been like, and how much I've learned and grown. It has truly been a gift to get to know, really know, these two marvelous people. What a lucky kid I am. How many grandchildren get the opportunity to grow so close to their grandparents like I have? Not many, I'm sure.

I'm going to miss our inside jokes. I'm going to miss the way I fit into their routine. I'm going to miss wine-time on the deck every night before dinner, watching the sunset behind Diamond Head and just talking about, well, everything. I'm going to miss Saturday morning garage sales and I'm even going to miss delivering Meals on Wheels. I'm going to miss the way Papa smells after his secret cigar, and I'm going to miss raising hell with Tutu.

I know that no matter what I write, I can't express exactly what this feels like. It's bitter-sweet, but more sweet than bitter. I'm going to miss them, but they are ready to have me move back in the moment I get back in the country. You're leaving a couple boxes of stuff here, right?

One of the sweetest moments I have ever shared with them happened tonight at dinner. We were finishing dinner on the balcony, talking about our day. Tutu just started taking a computer class at the community center (ah, old people!) and this is what she said, roughly:

At the beginning of class, the teacher asked us to introduce ourselves. We had to tell our names, and who you would be if you could be anybody in the world, past or present. People said they would like to be Jackie Kennedy or Tiger Woods, or people like that. I thought about it, and when it was my turn I said, "My name is Jeanne, and if I could be anybody, I would be Alena, that is, I would like to be myself, but young again." At this point, I stopped her. What? You said that in class? Or you just thought that? Oh, I said it! You see, I love my life and I love my family. If I was to be Jackie Kennedy, I wouldn't have my same family. So I wanted to keep my situation, but be young and healthy again. So I thought of my granddaughters. Your sister, well, she's a teenager and I would never want to go through that again. And your cousin, well! Eee-gads! Insert not-a-chance-would-I-be-her face and hand gestures here. Then I thought of you, Alena. You're 20 years old. You are intelligent, stable, and you are going places! I would love to be you.

I was blown away by her words. I was even more blown away to see tears running down her face, and Papa's too, as she spoke. My grandparents love us very much, but saying "I Love You" and showing that kind of emotion is just not part of them. From them, this was the highest compliment I could ever imagine. And the sweetest I-love-you I could ever ask for.

Beyond that, it also made me stop and reevaluate myself. I know that I'm waaay harsh on myself sometimes. It made me realize how incredibly lucky I am. I have the most supportive, loving family ever. I have the dearest friends, many of whom I count as family. I have the opportunity to pursue an education, studying what I love. And I have so many adventures ahead of me. For Tutu to say she would be me, out of anybody in the world, is a huge awakening.

But if I could end up anything like her, then I would be the lucky one.

Tutu, c.1950, and Alena, c. 2008.