Night Market Part II

On Wednesday I go to the market with the girls from the Sanctuary and Todd. I buy my first class of red wine in almost a month and sip it slowly, enjoying the rich decadence of something I used to guzzle down without much thought.

Todd and I have been spending so much time together that when we arrive to the busy market scene, I silently hope that he runs into friends so we can spend some time socializing with other people. As though reading my internal thoughts he spots a friend deep in the crowd and I take a seat watching the band with the other girls. Later I run into Joey, Shayna and Abbey, the girl who was in charge of the catering during my training session. I am overwhelmingly grateful that I am building up enough of a base here on Big Island that I have familiar faces to run into at the market. I buy another glass of red wine, letting each sip sit on the tip of my tongue, while I catch up with the beautiful people I have come to know in Hawaii.

Todd returns and asks me to go for a walk. We wander through the market together, past the crystal booth, which is an odd feeling as it was only a couple weeks ago that we met in the very same spot. And since then so much has changed: my living situation, my work life and my relationship status. When I say this to him, he returns a bright smile. I also remark how nice it has been catching up with the girls at the Sanctuary, and the Kirpal crew. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of them since we starting hanging out,” I say. “It’s all a balance in life; I need me time and community time as well as us time,” he replies. I tell him I agree as we ascend up a tree with our wine in hand. We stare below to the market, to the tarot card readers, the craft makers and the vegan food vendors. We talk and I ground myself again into “us time,” until we are comfortably reunited.

Once we return to our group the band launches into a set of louder folk tunes. I am swept away to the edge of the band, where I dance with Todd until the very end of the set. Dancers part like waves retreating and we become the fish out of water in the middle of the still floor. Our group has grown comfortably tipsy and the once vibrant market scene is quiet as half the white tents have been packed away for next time. I give into the sleepiness that’s bubbled up, and as we wander back to our car and drive down the familiar road to Hawaiian Sanctuary, I feel warmth and lightheaded. This was just the perfect amount of red wine and good company.

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