The Empty Chair on The Other Side of The Tree


People will assume what they will. My mother always told me “Let them”

This is a photo of where my mom would sit. It is on the deck that was created for a dual purpose – on the one hand, and in grade school, it was where my youngest would command his Jedi army to battle with the Dark Side.

Then one day, it became hers.

It is the place where I always and only see her, even now when she is not here, when she is on the mend, and when there are a whole lot of things being said about things that no one really thought about, either way, for anyone at all. I can sit here all day long and tell anyone at all a sad story, but I wonʻt.

Too much of that already, and most of it contains more than what I care to think is true, of anyone.

Particularly my self.

So, this is a picture of where she would sit, which is directly across from me, on The Other Side of The Tree.

There is no more lonely a feeling than to believe that the ones who used to comprise the world as you thought you knew it, through utter silence, makes it feel to anyone at all that there is evil afoot, that somehow, there needs to be division, that things have to be this way and in at least one way, they certainly do.

My mother always taught me that above all, the most important people on the planet to anyone called “Mom” are her children.

She taught me this.

This is something that, when I would sit on The Other Side of the Tree from her, we would discuss. We discussed that they are not here for me to forget about, that indeed they will learn and grow and sometimes they will need me and at other times they will not need me for anything other than my love and my approval, and yes, in some cases, my acceptance of things that I just plain old do not want to accept.

…and always with particular attention paid to the girl….always the girl…

Maile…the girl…my girl. My only daughter. The one who knows me so well, as well as my mom does, as well as David does….as well as I do.

These are the “very important for life things” that my mother has been teaching me since I was a girl.

I Am still that girl.

Let it ever be known, this moment, when it is that you are in that place where you have to make real choices, and you have to think for more than only your own self, and when you have to put aside how you feel about one thing that happened  that has to do with everything. When everything seems like it is a mess it is actually time that we can see through it all, sort it all out, like I am literally doing now, like I have literally been doing for a while now, in many more ways than only one.

And no….no I am not worried, about anything, of course, other than the things in my memory that wonʻt leave me alone and that tell me that even now, I am correct in my guesses, that what I am seeing now is not going to be different and that the only thing in all of this mess that is and will remain different is how I am choosing to see things.

Which is dearly…from my vantage point, thatʻs how.

For whatever purpose it was that anyone would do things in the manner that they were done, the only thing that was impressed upon me and mine is that there were things that certain people never bother with, even if those things are patently vital to anyone – some folks just straight donʻt give a fuck…not even half a fuck..about things that have nothing to do with them looking better to the outer world. To the outer world that I used to be a part of , I Am Satan…and I Am good with it.

I mean, for real…I have the dress…and the shoes….I just saw them, packed them, put them away into another place in my reality.

When I think about that much, I realize that this is what I have always been and will remain to be.


A sinner.

The thing that life brought into being so as to have very good example of a very bad example…and guess what?

I wear it well, and I have the shoes that goes with that dress that people want me to wear. Wear the proverbial dress I will do, because in doing so, I am also doing what it is that the woman who sits in the empty chair on The Other Side of the Tree from me always said to do…which is to “use your brain, Mapuana…try think, yeah? And stand up straight you look like a capitol C…”

No one thinks that I think this way…about the things that the woman who is usually sitting in that empty chair on the Other Side of The Tree from me and I talked about.


Love…with “a lovely young man”who she and my dad call Kawika…




…all the time.

And no matter who wants to think what, I Love My Mother, as much as a first born daughter of a first born daughter would.

I Love Her.



No matter who wants to turn me into the villain.

Go ahead.

Sheʻd tell you that I Am Her specific Dented Angel…with specific-to-me-and-only-me dents…and she would tell you that every one of them makes me who I Am, and that she Loves me, just like I Am.

Dents, and all….every little single one of them.

Sheʻd tell you that I Am Her Daughter.

Sheʻd tell you that I Am Hers.


…she might even invite you to argue the point with her, which, I Am telling you now, with how stubborn she is…she would NOT lose the argument.

Sheʻd quote Bible versus to you and would tell you that I Am Hers, and even in the way that I turned out, She is Proud That I Am this Me, because this me puts up with no oneʻs shit, and this me tells people what she is too much a lady to tell people, herself.

FUCK OFF!! is what….and I Am glad to be the one to do that much for her.

….and now…

So now there is this chair that only she can sit in.

I know this.

I tried it earlier.

I do not know how she sat there dispensing her wisdom as she had. I do not know how it was through her labored breathing and her taking a moment to pause for thought that she, in all of her dented glory, would have the time to tell me what she had, every single time.

But she did…from that place that sits now….empty…in more ways than just only one.

It is just a folding chair.

It is Her chair.

I cannot sit in it.

I have to sit on the Other Side of The Tree.


I guess I will have to ask my daughter, and hope that one day, she will Love Me like I know I Love my own mother.

Like she knows that I Love My Mother.

Like she know that I Love Her.

Like she just…knows…




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