North Star

15 | swan song

2009

Mom forced us to make leis for Kanani's graduation.

Forced was slightly dramatic but Mom meant business when it came to pulling out all the stops for her firstborn's high school graduation, so her level of intensity was cranked to the max. I don't know if I had ever seen her as focused as she was, organizing all of the miniature snacks into their individual piles, and separating the ribbon and lei mesh for easy access. Even if Mom wasn't giving Leimomi a break, for obvious reasons, she was also too young to care. Leimomi was a glorified ribbon holder at this point, but she looked cute doing it in her new dress so it was fine.

"It's me!" Leimomi said, holding up one of the completed leis.

On the other hand, I had been involuntarily enlisted into Mom's lei-making business, though it wasn't without a fight. When Dad had announced he was going to the store to pick up flower leis, I tried to sneak away with him as an excuse to do quite literally anything else, but my mom had caught me. (She threw a slipper at my back and scolded me for trying to leave.)

My dad had looked solemnly at me before darting out of the house before he could be forced to join. Solidarity, Dad. Solidarity.

"No, Hoku, you gotta spread 'em out. Like this." Mom held her lei up in front of me so I could see how she alternated different types of candy in each section.

"Mom. Nani isn't going to notice. She'll be too busy crying or trying to see over all the other leis hanging around her neck. And when she takes all of this out, she's just dumping it into a box for easy access."

Mom was not amused, even though we both knew I was telling the truth. "Don't make me grab one slippah."

I scoffed and went back to my lei.

Oddly enough, the one person I wanted here was the person for whom we were making these leis. She would have been able to distract me or make me laugh.

Dad had dropped Kanani off at her friend's house this morning so they could get ready, and then they had to arrive at the school before the ceremony to prep as well. It felt a bit like it was her wedding day and we weren't allowed to see her before she walked down the aisle. All of the graduates had to wear white under their robes too so that checked out.

I was the lucky one, though, because I had actually seen her dress already. The only one she allowed. She hadn't even gone to buy it with Mom or Dad either. They had given her a set amount of money and said she could pick whatever she wanted, and if it was more than that she had to use her own money to cover the difference, which she was fine with because they gave her the freedom to decide. Since I was no help when it came to picking out clothes, considering I basically wore the same outfits on constant rotation, Kanani went shopping with friends from school. But as soon as she had gotten home, she yanked me from my room over to hers and slammed the door shut behind us.

"It's perfect," she said excitedly.

"Well," I sat on the edge of her bed, "let's see it, then."

Watching her pull the dress out of the shopping bag and quickly tear her clothes off so she could put it on, I thought about how lucky I was to grow up with a sibling so close in age. While it meant we bickered in ways that hit a little too close to home sometimes—getting mad at Leimomi was different. She did normal child things that were irritating sometimes but I couldn't genuinely stay mad at her—I also had someone to guide me through things easily because we essentially experienced them side-by-side. Kanani taught me how to shave, how to use a tampon, and what kind of pads worked best at different times during a period. She helped me with my math homework and pointed out which lunch servers I could cozy up to and get an extra helping of food. When I wanted to build a blanket and pillow fort last year before Christmas, she stripped her bed bare without hesitation. And when I almost threw out my entire wardrobe because I hated the way I looked in everything I owned, she reminded me that I was just being mean to myself. You're beautiful, she had told me, even when you don't feel like it. You're not always right, even if your feelings are valid. We stood in front of the mirror, trying on each other's clothes and admiring ourselves while blasting music. Mom poked her head inside, smiled, and then quietly closed the door instead of telling us to keep it down.