Small Town Girl

She is tired.
No, actually she is
From trying to
make it all work
She has three
children, she
tells me
And smiles.
Her smile fades
when the conversation
to the topic of
12 years
and they can’t even have a
Is this the life she signed
up for?
Is this all there is?
She can’t quite reconcile
to it all.
I smile back at her,
I can’t quite

I went from living in a city of 2 million people to an island of roughly 60,000. Culture shock? Not entirely, since I was raised in a town of 4,000 people. To be honest, Kauai isn’t much different than where I grew up – Tillamook, Ore. (the population of Tillamook will be thrilled to hear this). Except for the tropical scenary, warm temps and aqua blue ocean, of course. In any event, it is a bit startling to my system – it’s been more than 13 years since I lived in T-town!

Here’s the deal in Kauai – as far as I can tell at the 6-week mark:
-Everyone knows everyone.
-Local girls marry local boys. And when locals branch out and hook up with non-locals – there are mutterings and grimaces.
-You drive down the street and wave at pretty much every car because you know everyone. If you don’t know them, they are probably a tourist.
-You wear board shorts and flip-flops virtually everyone – this primarily is true of men. No need to get dressed up, you’re in paradise, bro!
-Appetizers are pupus. Get used to it.
-The hang loose hand sign that went out of style in the mid-80’s on the mainland is alive and well here. And it means Shaka, in case you didn’t know.

And there’s more: I paid for my car in cash – and the guy is so friendly and nice he gives me the car with only half down while I wait for the rest of the money to be transferred into my account. Our landlord brings us eggplant and fresh avocados from trees nearby. Just because. At the copy shop, I only have a $20, so the guy doesn’t charge me for the fax. When I meet new people (which is pretty much daily), they greet me with a hug and a kiss (this I LOVE and this is not the same as Tillamook!).

With this shift in locale, I can’t help but shift as well. I’m tearing up to country music for god’s sake (primarily because it soothes me – I was raised on country and rock), and I’m enjoying the fact that my schedule is no longer jam packed. I feel like one of those 60-year-olds who looks back on her life and remincises about simpler times. I’m now living in those simpler times! And I’m reflecting, and getting choked up. Oy vey.

I don’t wait in many lines or in traffic anymore, but I also don’t get to hang out in my favorite new age bookstore. In fact, there is only one bookstore on the whole island (Borders), but there are more churches than I’ve ever seen in my life! I feel myself get anxious when people aren’t on time or in a hurry – but it’s Hawaii, man – you don’t have to be on time.

Then, I freak out for a moment because I remember that I live on an island.
In the middle of the Pacific.
And I know two people.

And that makes me grateful that my new hair stylist is so damn sweet, that the guy who sold me my car was so laid-back and cool, and how lovely it is to work from home and create my own little island.

What an adventure, yeah?
This is Hawaii-speak, by the way, something I’m picking up.
Today, after stopping at one of the oldest churches in Hawaii (St. Raphael) I couldn’t help but reflect on the myraids of ways that my life has changed.

Thanks for reading! 😉

Much love,

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

Number 3

The third time
will be a
He’ll be all that the others

He’ll fancy me in the
appropriate ways
Dream of only me
and love me like no other

We’ll never
or yell
or hate
We’ll always be
inspired and
fulfilled and know
that we are
for each

The third one
Will be the good one
The right
I’m sure of it.

© 2009 Heather Strang
All rights reserved.

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

Read Write Poem, Inspired Poetry 🙂




And in wonder

Will I fall?

Will I leap?

Will it all end today?

It’s too early to tell

And so I sit

In quiet contemplation

And wait.

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

2 c hot water
4 c vegetable stock
2 c green lentils
1 c carrots, chopped
1 small white onion, sliced
2 T parsley
1 T olive oil

Place all ingredients in a crockpot. Simmer on low for 4 hours.

And enjoy!
This soup is spicy, hearty and YUMMY. It’s pretty rich, so I usually only have 1/2 a cup at a time. Pair with heated corn tortillas (turn a stove burner on low and place tortilla, flipping when reaching desired crispiness).

Happy Eating!
Heather 🙂

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

Island Days

Hits my
and forehead
Birds chirp
and roosters scream
The water
in the pool
is cool against my
I yawn
while palm trees
Singing me a
private song
The plumeria trees
whisper their secrets
And the hybiscus
blush with embarrassment
I step in deeper
The water tickles my
Now I’m swaying
with the palm trees
Mimicking their dance
As I become one
with the island.

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

The Dancer

Who is this dancing girl?
This girl who craves
And flip-flops on a sunny
Who reads poetry
While sipping tea
And dreaming of where she’ll live

Who is this girl who questions everything?
Who believes nothing is
Truly simple
And who must assign
Meaning to every
Every sign,
Every mark
Along the way

Who is this girl who is no longer a girl?
Trying to figure out what
Intimacy between friends,
Between lovers,
Between strangers,
Between family
Really is
Hoping that somehow she can figure it all out
Through a poem, or a song or a dance

Who is this girl who loves to create?
A new recipe
A new groove
A new life
Quite possibly for the very act of
With the dream that
In the end
It will mean something remarkable

This girl, this woman, this lover, this creator is
And there are no labels
Or definitions or confines
Or even a box big enough to contain
My spirit.
It will soar
Simply because
It is meant too.

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

Country Music

These days
The only
That makes
Me feel
At home
Country music
The twang,
George Strait,
And songs of women and beers
Soothes my soul
Makes me remember
Where I am
And who I am.
With no one around
No familiarities to call
My own
I reach
For something,
Some shred of evidence
That I am not alone.

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

Snow Birds

Matching his and her blue striped towels
Camouflage bathing shorts
And tanned, leathered skin

One thing is missing, though
The conversation.

She barely raises an eye
As he passes by
He watches her closely
Careful not to upset her
After all these years.

She studies her book meticulously
And then becomes bored
He is no longer noticing her
Now, she must get his attention
She may be 65, but she isn’t giving up just yet.

So, carefully
Very carefully
She rises from her lawn chair
and saunters
Steadily, in her full piece
zebra stripe bathing suit
This catches his eye
He watches her carefully
She dips a toe in the pool and wades in
Her eyes lift up, gracefully
They make eye contact

The argument is won
The tension is gone
After 35 years,
They’ve still

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

So…here goes!
Feel free to respond with your poetry too. It is National Poetry Month after all.


On a pier in
You shed a single
And said you wanted to marry
We held hands in the darkest night of
And you took my breath

With your
With your
With your
That I,
I should be

I had no answers for you
And, I still

Just a simple
Of a boy
On a pier in

-Heather Strang
© 2009

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More

To kick off National Poetry Month (of which I’ll be writing/posting a poem here daily!), I wanted to share a poem I recently came across and absolutely LOVE. It just makes me happy. I hope it will for you too:

The Happiest Day

It was early May, I think
a moment of lilac or dogwood
when so many promises are made
it hardly matters if a few are broken.
My mother and father still hovered
in the background, part of the scenery
like the houses I had grown up in,
and if they would be torn down later
that was something I knew
but didn’t believe. Our children were asleep
or playing, the youngest as new
as the new smell of the lilacs,
and how could I have guessed
their roots were shallow
and would be easily transplanted.
I didn’t even guess that I was happy.
The small irritations that are like salt
on melon were what I dwelt on,
though in truth they simply
made the fruit taste sweeter,
So we sat on the porch
in the cool morning, sipping
hot coffee. Behind the news of the day –
strikes and small wars, a fire somewhere –
I could see the top of your dark head
and thought not of public conflagrations
but of howit would feel on my bare shoulder
If someone could stop the camera then
if someone could only stop the camera
and ask me: are you happy?
perhaps I would have noticed
how the morning shone in the reflected
color of lilac. Yes, I might have said
and offered a steaming cup of coffee.

Linda Pastan

Posted by Heather Kristian Strang in Uncategorized Read More