The phone rang late one evening at my temporary home in Dundee where I sleep on a blow-up bed and answer to the name “Delly.” Future housemate Karren Louise’s voice sparkled over the line. She was giddy, nearly breathless with exclamation.

“I found our home!” she said. “And it’s so frickin’ amazing!” I envisioned her behind the wheel of the van, careening down the road as words flew like flapping birds straight from her heart. “It’s so luxurious … gorgeous tile work…macadamia trees…remodeled kitchen…half an acre…papaya trees… fully furnished… washer and dryer… avocado trees…includes all utilities…even cable and internet…”  I was grinning now, her enthusiasm catching up with me across the miles. “It’s everything we asked for! Can you believe all this on our budget?” she crowed.

I could. It’s that “house mana” thing I talked about in Moving to Maui Blog#3 – “Mana With My Kona Coffee Break

Our house isn’t in Makawoa as planned, but a few miles north in Ha’iku. I associate that word, as you probably do, with the Japanese 17-syllable poem. And what’s pretty funny about that is that I write Haikus. In fact, the week Karren Louise found the house, the book, “Hot Flash Haiku” came out and I’m one of the contributors. Want to hear one?

I once was so hot
Now hotter than ever
Many times a day

The Universe jokes, don’t you think?  Writing Haikus, living in Ha’iku. Even my street address is Ha’iku Road.

What can I do but write a Haiku in honor of my new home:

On Haiku Road sits
A house in Haiku Maui
A poem of a home

Tomorrow my tour o’ family ends and I’m “Bac in Sac” for almost three weeks.
But the hardest “goodbye” is behind me: to my grandchildren, Jaden and Abby, who at four and seven only understand that “Delly” won’t be back for awhile. And there’s no Haiku, either Japanese or Hawaiian, that can express my melancholy as they drove away.