Reviving Wonder

March 30, 2016

Four steps to Hawaii Island from Michigan:

1. Drive to Chicago, stay one night in a hotel. 

2. Park car, take shuttle to the airport, get on an early morning flight to Honolulu. 

3. From Honolulu get on a plane to Hilo, Hawaii Island. 

4. Get rental car, drive to rented house in Waikoloa Village. 

Step one started out dreary and grey, the highway to Chicago lay drenched in rain, the skies veiled in ominous grey. AJ sat quiet in the passenger seat of the family car, sighing at times, mumbling roadside observances, eyes closed, waiting for the next step. The start of the family’s great adventure felt burdensome with exhaustion leaning so heavily on her mind and body. Experience told her that the tired sluggishness was not permanent, that her presence of mind and anticipation of the marvels and wonders that lay before her would be restored with rest. With rest, she would be able to see again, to anticipate awe, to smile at the smallest things. 

She had pushed too hard that day. After fulfilling commitments in the morning, she spent hours packing and preparing so when it was time to get in the car, she was spent, foggy and too tired to think straight.

A minute after the family settled into the chilled hotel room, she changed, crawled under unfamiliar, clean-smelling sheets and fell asleep. 

March 31, 2016

Dreariness persevered through the night to greet them in the morning, darkening the cold wet Chicago skies, whetting everyone’s appetite for sunshine. Rain tapped on the windows as she had tea and oatmeal with TwoSon in the hotel lobby. 

Leaving their car on the roof of a nearby parking garage, they rode a swaying shuttle to the airport to wait and shuffle in long lines only to fumble with shoes and jackets through security. It took only a few minutes sitting at the gate before they queued up again to await boarding their plane.

The plane sat a few minutes longer than usual at the gate, waiting for a lightening storm to pass. The night’s sleep wasn't enough to bring her curiosity back, she needed more, but knew it was futile to try in the noisy, uncomfortable seat. The longest part of step two lay before her, 9 hours and 29 minutes of searching for inspiration and wonder in a stale airplane cabin full of restless, sun-starved travelers. 

Unable to find distraction or rest in anything around her, wonder and curiosity blotted out by a thick sheet of exhaustion, she let an audio recording of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped play in her ears, and dozed for short moments, the words drifting in and out of comprehension. 

By the end of the first four hours of flight, AJ’s mind had scrimped, saved and conserved energy gleaned from sitting and closing her eyes, added it to the small drifting sleeps to resurrect her actively awe-seeking mind. With the help of a cup of coffee, observation, anticipation and love of travel came into view on the mental horizon. But her physical eyes couldn’t see it yet, all that was in front of her was a seat-back screen and jaded magazines. To fill the time, she nibbled an orange, apple and some nuts, then opened a bad print-on-demand copy of Reflections on the Psalms by CS Lewis.

A woman a few seats away coughed hard, not a throat-clearing, but a sick cough. Sneezes punctuated the cabin’s hushed rush of noise. The man across the aisle blew his nose loud, wadded up the tissue and stuffed it into the seat back pocket. AJ resisted cringing at the diseased sights and sounds.  Beside her in the seat, OneSon slept, his head against the closed window. 

 A couple nearby traveled with a small child, maybe 4 years old. For the first few hours, they sat together, the child napping on his mom’s lap. Then they split up, the husband/Daddy moving to an empty seat a few aisles away, to wherever his son wasn’t. The toddler was too much for the 90’s-music-video-watching (he watched them on a large screen laptop, so everyone around him, whether they wanted to or not, could enjoy them too), loud-nose-blowing man, leaving the Mom to do the heavy lifting. The little boy kept seeking out his daddy. His daddy kept changing seats to get away from him.

The little passive-aggressive game of  “Stay Away From the Annoying Toddler” played out for hours until the plane landed. AJ looked at B, sitting in front of her with TwoSon at his side, and her heart filled with appreciation and gratitude. Although the boys were older now and didn’t need much help, when they were young, B always paid special attention to them on long trips, making sure they had plenty to do on airplane rides.

Confusion reigned when they landed at Honolulu Airport. Repeated announcements told the family they had to take a shuttle to another part of the airport to catch the flight to Hilo, but in order to catch the shuttle, it looked like they had to leave the airport. B walked on, AJ questioning whether leaving the building would require them to trudge though security again. 

But the Midwestern family didn’t realize that they were in Hawaii. Things like airport terminals were outside–there was no snow or freezing temperatures to keep out, but not a lot of cheap power, so no air conditioning to keep in. They did  have to go outside the airport to catch a shuttle. Finally, after asking fragmented questions like, “Wiki-wiki shuttle?” of uniformed employees, they got on the right bus that took them to the right gate so they could wait, again. 

A puddle jumper, the interior decorated in aqua and pink made a quick trip to Hilo airport. AJ sat in a light-drenched seat and watched the sun disappear into heavy grey haze as they flew by a mountain island surrounded by mist. 

The air at Hilo Airport had a woodsy, burnt smell.  The skies were overcast and dim, but nothing–rental car desks, gate check-ins–was enclosed, everything open, with just roofs to keep the misty rain off.  

The family hopped into a white Hyundai after documenting scratches on the body, and headed down the road.

“I’ll give 5$ to anyone who spots an out-of-state license,” AJ said as they pulled up behind a jacked up Toyota truck, the rainbow on the the white background license plate right at their eye level. 

 As they thread their way through what looked like small town Northeast USA (except tropical), AJ reveled in the sights. Palm trees and house plants grew happily outside. Neat little stilted houses lined the roads: sprawling ones, just-holding-together ones, ones that showcased their stuff on the lawns. The neighborly streets turned into Saddle Road, a deserted highway covered thick with fog for the first 20 miles, lacing lazily through small hills and seemingly random piles of rock.

But they weren't random piles of rock. The road ventured bravely through the middle of fields of rough lava–irregular, brown, dirt-like clods piled up, chunks here and there, punctuated by small patches of smooth, black-obsidian-like swirled rock. 

The car climbed steadily up an incline, a few impatient Jeeps zoomed past. Probably islanders sick of following tourists.  

Miss GPS’s directions led them to a house–the family’s first AirBnB experience. As they pulled in, the host, Shane, greeted them and showed them their Ohana–or home–for the next 4 days. It was the basement of his house: 3 big bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a spacious living room and a kitchen. 

“We’re staying at a house for vacation. It seems not so vacation-like to cook and do laundry,” AJ had complained a few days before. The minute she entered the basement space, she regretted the spoiled-brat, whiny bad-attitude it betrayed. No, now, in the tired warm light, the kitchen and laundry were absolute God-sends. Laundry, dishes and cooking in Hawaii, even if that is one’s never-ending job at home in MI, was an amazing opportunity and privilege. “We’ll only need breakfast, we’ll be out for lunch and dinner,” B said. Spoiled brat AJ. 

After unloading the car, they went to the nearby grocery for a few breakfast things, at twice the price they were used to.  

Irrigation sprayed every morning, a banana patch grew behind the house, tall palm trees lined the property. An elementary school was just a few blocks away. Early Monday morning, plodding little voices drifted in their open windows, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.