I was helping my mother prepare for an appointment at the Department of Motor Vehicles in Honolulu when I got the text message. “BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII,” the official alert read. “SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.” The islands were already on edge because of tensions between the US and North Korea. Wary and agitated, I tried to make sense of the situation.
When I look back on that moment in 2018, the most visceral memory I have is how conscious I was of my scalp. Having never thought of it before, I remember feeling acutely aware of its presence, how odd it was that hair has follicles. In these last, precious moments, I asked my mother what, in the face of our impending death, she wanted to do next. She still wanted to go to the DMV. In her mind, we could be sitting ducks – or we could just get on with it.
