Mother

Seaweed hugs my feet as I walk out of the ocean onto the black sand beach of Maui. My family, I see them at a picnic table, are unpacking the veggie sandwiches we bought for lunch at the hotel. My sister smiles and waves at me to come over. 

I grab my towel from the hot sand, shaking it as I run over to them. The air is cool on my skin as I dry off, and I quickly throw my sundress over top of my bikini, not caring if it gets wet. The water has made me hungry, and I devour my sandwich and a bag of chips immediately. 

Around me, the eucalyptus trees are swaying in the wind, spreading their beautiful earthy scent to my nose. I can hear the ocean crashing onto the shore and kids screaming with joy as they throw themselves into the waves. The setting is postcard-worthy. 

If I ever could afford to live here, I would. I can almost see myself driving through the roads of Maui with a surfboard and ukulele in the trunk, Jack Johnson playing on the radio.  

One of the first movies I remember watching as a child was Lilo and Stitch on VHS; ever since then, I’d looked forward to exploring Hawai’i. I’m 18 now, and finally, I’m here. 

When the plane landed three days ago, I stepped out into the tropical heat. I felt an instantaneous connection. I felt as though I were home. But how could that be possible in a place I’d never been to? I assumed it was déja vu or that maybe I'd dreamt I'd been here before. 

This was the third day of our two-week trip, and we had dedicated the entire day to drive the road to Hana. My dad had heard many amazing things about Hana from our neighbour and had us up at the crack of dawn to get moving. We got lucky that we could get a car for our trip. Most rental companies don’t permit renting if they know you’ll be driving this road. It’s a top tourist attraction, but it's also unsafe.   

Our journey started off slow. This highway, nicknamed Death Highway, has 620 hairpin turns and no guardrails. My mom, who was driving, paid close attention to stay under the speed limit so as not to send us plummeting to our untimely deaths. 

My biggest fear is heights, so I’ve tried to keep my head turned to the right and look at the trees, but I haven’t been able to resist the occasional look to the left, to peek over the edge. The ocean, from the view of the road, is an ever-changing landscape of sunlit waves. It’s a mesmerizing scene until I remind myself how long the long drop down is. The idea of falling a thousand feet makes my head spin. 

Soon the sun is making friends with the west, and it’s time to drive back to the hotel. 

Turn left. Turn right. Cross the bridge. Turn left… dead stop. 

What was happening? Why were we stopped? How many cars were blocked ahead of us? 

My parents get out and disappear up the line of cars. Then my mom comes hurrying back and tells my sister and I to get out and meet my dad up ahead while she waits in the car.

We do as she says and soon see what the hold-up is: a fallen tree, big as a school bus, is blocking the entire road. The heartbreaking realization that I'm trapped on Death Highway sets in. 

Here I am, petrified of heights, stuck on the road to Hana, which snakes dangerously around the edge of Maui. I whisper to myself that everything will be fine. If I could just drown out the voices that I imagine are calling me from those vertiginous cliffs. I hear them beckon: “Emma… come… we hold the keys to paradise.” It’s as though they want me to come close enough to the edge so they can grab me by the ankles and drag me down. Just like the monster, I feared was under my bed as a child would do.

I developed a fear of heights at 8 after falling off a ski lift. It was at the end of the ride, and I didn’t get hurt, but I was still traumatized. Now, I’m entirely trapped on this road and petrified. My mind is a massive tsunami of intrusive thoughts. 

I imagine the road is shrinking and that it will inch closer until the only option left is to fall. My head is pounding, and sweat is dripping down into my eyes smudging my mascara. Nausea flows through my veins, and the pain blocks out all of my other senses. All I can think about is the pit I would feel in my stomach if I fell over the edge.

My mind flashes back to a dream of falling and waking up to tears washing over my face. They say hitting water from a height is like hitting concrete. 

If I fell, would I be too stunned to cry? Or would all these people hear a blood-curdling scream as I dropped to my death?

My stomach rises up into my chest, and I know it’s coming seconds before it does. I throw the car door open and retch my lunch onto the pavement staining it green. 

My mom rushes over to me and rubs my forehead as if I were a child having trouble falling asleep. She grabs a blanket from the trunk and sets it up for me to sit comfortably on the floor of the minivan so that I’m unable to see anything but a door handle. 

For four hours, I huddle in this position, trying to sleep. Still, my mind is fully awake and overthinking the possibility that I could die. That I will die if this tree doesn’t get moved soon. I overthink until my body is about to shatter like a broken plate.

By hour five, my headache is so awful, and I decide fresh air will help. I crawl out of the car to relax my cramped muscles. It's evening now. 

I lay on the cool pavement on the side of the road and look up into the dark canvas above me. There is no light pollution, and I see more sparkling miracles than I ever have before. Those stars could be billions of years old and dead now, but the blessing of their light still reaches me. The realization comes to me: I am connected to the generations that had lived before me and walked on this same soil where I now lay. I am a tiny spec in an ancient and ever-growing world where my existence barely makes a pen mark on history's timeline. Yet, I am the only version of myself that will ever exist. Why am I letting my fear of heights stop me from appreciating and experiencing the world the way no one else ever has. 

If I’m stuck here until the sun imprints the morning sky, I will embrace that fact in its entirety. I will peer over the edge of the mountain, knowing that I’m about to see the world open up to me. She’ll invite me into her heart and carry me with love. I will be given the keys to paradise.

Author's note: based on an actual vacation I went on.