Far, Far Away, and: may day is lei day in Hawai'i Melissa Llanes Brownlee (bio) Far, Far Away The launch is beautiful, white plumes, spreading. We hold our breath, all of us little kids with stars and makapiapia in our eyes, hopes of Space Camp buzzing through our brains. We imagine zero G simulators and talking robots who help us fly to space. We woke up early before school, bowls of frosted flakes, Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Apple Jacks, Fruity Pebbles in our laps as we sat in front of our TVs, parents sitting on couches, sipping coffee. We learned there was a teacher onboard but we were cheering for the boy from Kona, the boy who became an astronaut. The boy we all wanted to be, even our parents. His own parents so proud, working in their general store on the mountain, handing out crack seed and kettle chips to us kids when we drove by in the back of our fathers' trucks. As we watch him fly higher, our dreams follow him, one day we would be working on space stations, mining the moon, flying to the asteroids and Saturn and Jupiter and maybe even one day another galaxy, far, far away. We dip our spoons into our bowls as the sky parts. [End Page 34] may day is lei day in Hawai'i plumeria strangle Tita's neck, pink, white, yellow petals, plucked the night before from the neighbor's tree, its branches dangling across their fence and over the sidewalk, their smell invading her sunstroked nostrils, piercing her may day haze of queen and princesses and bazaar foods of pickle mango, malasadas, stone cookies, hot dogs, and she shakes her unbrushed hair, hearing her mother how you going leave the house, looking down at her favorite rainbow t-shirt, the edges frayed, and hefts her school ukulele, readying for her grade's performance of a medley of the islands, the koa edges soft and hard against her bare thighs, her okole still sore from the last you better, her knees scabbed from flying from the tallest swing on the playground, 'my dog has fleas' singing in her ears [End Page 35] Melissa Llanes Brownlee Melissa Llanes Brownlee (she/her), a native Hawaiian writer, living in Japan, has work published or forthcoming in SmokeLong Quarterly, Gigantic Sequins, The Rumpus, and Indiana Review, as well as her books Hard Skin (Juventud Press, 2022) and Kahi and Lua (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). She tweets @lumchanmfa and talks story at www.melissallanesbrownlee.com. Copyright © 2023 University of Wisconsin Board of Regents