It was different than Puaura had expected, being married to Ahio. He seemed so different than the funny, carefree boy she’d grown up with on the island. Here, he was quieter, more serious. More focused on his work as a firefighter. She was happy that he had found a career that brought him so much fulfillment. But he was away from home so often – usually for a stretch of four days at a time.
She made the best of it. She explored their new home town, practiced the new language until she was nearly fluent, and managed to make a couple of friends. Still, she felt heartsick whenever she allowed herself to think of her home, her childhood friends, and most of all, her mother. She didn’t understand why Ahio had brought them to this strange new land, so far away from everything and everyone they had known. But whenever she tried to ask him about it, he would change the subject, or shut down, or put in extra work hours at the firehouse. Perhaps to get away from her, she worried sometimes.
It was different – he was different. But it wasn’t all bad. They managed to turn their run-down house into a cozy little home. And though sometimes it seemed they had little in common, far less than they used to, they learned to enjoy the small things they did have in common.
They both enjoyed learning about the culture of their new country, and trying new music and foods. Ahio was also drawn to the Catholic Church, where everyone in town gathered each week. It was lovely, in a strange and foreign way. But when she was alone, Puaura preferred to seek out a beautiful spot near the water, where she could faithfully worship the gods of her youth.