Stay Little Longer

FROM THE HOUSE

There’s usually a moment when it feels like it’s time to leave.  The food is mostly gone.  Somebody has started stacking plates.  Leftovers are being packed away for others to take.  The kids are getting tired.  You’ve already said, “Okay, we gotta go.”

And then somehow you’re still there 45 minutes later.

Standing by the door.  Talking.  Someone remembers one more story.  Then the next thing you notice is somebody brings out something else to eat.  Most likely something sweet.

The conversation moves from what everyone has been doing lately to something you didn’t expect to talk about at all.  Growing up in Hawaiʻi, leaving somebody’s house could take a while.

There was the first goodbye.  Then the conversation at the door.  Sometimes another one outside.  Maybe one more by the car.  As a kid, I remember wondering why we couldn’t just go.

Now I think I understand it a little better.  Some of the best parts happened after we were supposed to leave.  Maybe because nobody was trying so hard anymore.  The meal was over. The reason for gathering had passed. Whatever needed to happen had already happened.

So people stayed.  And talked.  There’s something about that I don’t want to lose.  We live with a lot of reasons to move on quickly now.  Another place to be.  Another thing to do.  Another notification.  Another piece of something waiting for our attention.

You see, efficiency has its place.  But relationships aren’t particularly efficient.  Sometimes you have to sit there long enough for the conversation underneath the conversation to show up.

We’ve been noticing that with KŪ, too.  When we sit with someone to record their story, some of the things we remember most happen before the camera turns on.  Or after we think we're finished.  A small detail.  A memory that suddenly comes back.  “Eh, wait. I gotta tell you one more thing.”

So maybe this is just a reminder for us as much as anyone else:

You don't always have to rush off.
Stay for another story.
Help clean up.
Stand by the door a little longer.

You never know what somebody was just about to tell you.

Aloha and A hui hou,

Daniel
KŪ Project