I went to Hawaii a few months ago on a trip for Knickerbocker. I was there with my best friend; we bought tiny bottles of sake and ant-covered rambutan from the farmer's market in Hilo. At night we played Scrabble, drank dirty martinis and avoided the official musical event featuring Hootie and the Blowfish.
On the final day, I had a red-eye out of Kona. My friend had already left, so I walked along the shoreline, eating cookies smuggled out of the departures lounge.
I ended up at a rocky outcropping across from a luxury housing community/golf course. On the volcanic rock other visitors left love notes and memorials, like the ones that dot the devastated Martian landscape outside of the airport. When my bus passed by the white rock Knickerbocker logo, people clapped.
On the beach, I had one of those weird moments when I reflected on the fact that I should be more self-reflective. "You should take a moment to yourself," said I. "It's a beach. No one is here but the turtles. Figure something out."
There were enough rocks for me to leave a message, but cancer didn't come for Papi, and I had recently become un-hearted from someone. What to say...what to say?
No comments:
Post a Comment