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The MA was only making casual conversation
as she took my vitals
when she asked me
“Do you miss it? Hawai`i?”
Only a gaping yawn
A constant toothache
A wandering through a washed out world
A life of forty percent saturation
I left it at “Yes and no.”
For years it was yes(!)
yes, yes, yes
Dear God, yes.
I did miss it.
So much
that I couldn't breathe
and I couldn't not cry
and I begged God to let me return

Home.

Startled, she paused at her task to look in my eyes for the first time
“Why no?”
Why no?
What could anyone not miss about living in paradise?
“Well… growing up white in Hawai`i,” I confided to her, chocolate eyes meeting my eyes of sky
“You don’t always… 
well...
being a second class citizen gets old…”
I trailed off.
Her mahogany face bent back over her task as I gathered my thoughts,
“You get tired of having to fight to be enough in the place you call home.”
She chuckled then, laughter full and round and ripe with stories
that Hispanic MA’s don’t tell white patients in Prescott, Arizona.

Perhaps it was just my desire to connect to this beautiful brown girl in the whitewash of Northern Arizona
but when she told me, “Born and raised here in Prescott myself"
I imagined she knew
better then I even
the state
of being

Alone

In the place
you call 
Home.

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