And one day I will be old,
my hair will turn grey,
my dark brown will turn to white.
The course hair of my grandmother will become my own.
First with one strand then another,
soon to turn into waves,
coming in and out with the longs box dye
I’ve seen my grandmother use.
And I will know I am old,
when the image of my youth is a faint memory,
one I can only see in pictures.
And if I have kids they will say,
That was you.
With big eyes and gentle hands.
I will only get smaller,
I’m too Kepanī and Pākē and Pilipino to not.
But I hope to have a big family.
So when I shrink until I am out of sight,
until I am nothing and all that is left is ashes in a box.
They will spread my body,
and give me back to my mother.
Aloha e, STUPPLEBEENLILINOE143, and mahalo for your post. This is wonderful. I wish I could see the photo. I’ve also cross-listed this as an entry in the February 2025 Year of the Snake Bamboo Shoots Writing Contest. Please keep submitting your work. Aloha, Bamboobuckaroo