Stitch and the warm thing called ohana.
Once Upon a time, on a warm island where the trade winds
came in off the ocean and the flowers never quite stopped
blooming, small blue creature named Stitch was sitting on the
porch. He was supposed to be inside.
He was almost inside. He was on the porch, which was
close. The night was very warm and very
soft and smelled of plumeria and the sea and Stitch had found
since coming to live on this island, since coming to live
with Lilo and Nanny. But he liked to sit on the porch
at night and simply be in the middle of all that warm and soft
and smell. He had not expected to like it.
He had not expected to. Like most things.
Lilo was asleep inside. He could hear her, the slow even
breathing of someone who had fallen asleep mid thought.
Which was how Lilo fell asleep most nights, her mind still
going somewhere while the rest of her had already given up.
Nani had turned off the last light an hour ago.
The house was dark and warm and full of sleeping.
Stitch pressed 1 paw against the porch post and felt the wood
rough and warm from the day's sun, still holding it the way
wood does long after the light is gone.
He thought about the word ohana. He thought about it often now,
Not because he had to, because he wanted to, because it was the
best word he had ever learned in any language, on any planet, in
all his strange and complicated existence.
Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left
behind. He'd been left behind before, or
he had done the leaving. He was not always sure which.
But here, on this porch, on this island, with Lilo's breathing
coming through the window, here nobody was leaving.
Here he was the one who stayed. He stood up slowly and went
inside. He padded past Nanny's room.
He looked in on Lilo, her face peaceful, her hands still curled
around the edge of her blanket, her little record players silent
on the night stand. Stitch found a spot at the foot
of Lilo's bed, the place that was without anyone declaring it
his. He curled up.
He was small in this position, smaller than he looked.
Just a small blue creature curled at the foot of a bed on a
warm island under a sky full of stars.
The trade winds came through the window, soft and warm and salt
sweet. Stitch closed his eyes.
Six eyes, All of them closed. All of them home.
You have your ohana too, little one.
The ones who stay, the ones who breathe nearby, the ones who
sleeping. Sounds fill your house like
something warm. Nobody is leaving tonight. close
your eyes, feel the warm wood, smell the flowers.
Let the trade winds come through.
You are home, you are kept, you are loved.
Sleep now, just like Stitch.