When I close my eyes, I still see the fiery glow of lava in Halema‘uma‘u crater. Sometimes if I’m not careful, I find myself walking through the clouds while the honeycreepers build nests in my hair. I can’t see where I’m going, but I don’t care. To be there with my boots crunching on lava is sweeter than any honey from the hives. Bees swirl around me. I still feel my hand in his and the sound of his voice whispering in my tired ear.
In the end, we remember those slices of time where we feel the most—love, anguish, joy, sorrow, fright. I don’t care what the reason. Maybe it was the day you first realized you were mortal or that first moment you saw love walk in the door. Or that no matter how many years passed, you would still be that girl, the barefoot one with long brown hair and a penny in her pocket. Maybe it was when you suddenly realized you had everything to lose and you were too blind to notice. What matters most is what lives in your heart, and if there is one thing I know, it is this: love is the only way.
And magic.
I guess that’s two.