We're on the big island now. We left lovely gentle Maui and after much hassle and shuffling of possessions got here late this afternoon. We're staying at The Orchid, an enormous resort hotel at Mauna Lani that was once a Ritz Carlton, something we can't tell Beau because he's convinced they're all haunted.
I don't like it here yet. I'm sure I will, I think I'm just tired. It isn't easy being responsible for a spoiled, bratty, eighty-six year old, her illiterate, endlessly-scheming helper, and a tired, forgetful, twelve year old. I miss Maui, I miss my man, I want to be making love with him right now. I miss my cats. I want to kiss their sweet faces and feel the lick of their scratchy tongues. But I am grateful to be here.
I don't really like big fussy hotels. They're too impersonal and corporate. They have stupid rules for men like long pants and collared shirts must be worn in the, ohhh so fine and fancy, dining room. Who cares??? It's Hawaii for God's sake, why make everyone dress up? Blech. Plus we're up in these great big towers, miles of hallways away from and levels above the sea.
On the way here we travelled along this lava bordered highway, lava everywhere, a desert of lava. The sweetest thing though were these bits and pieces of human graffiti made from white coral rocks that stood out against the black and red of the lava fields. In memory of Daniel, Brittany loves Peter, Aloha, The Momoyama Family, Waikoloa Rules, and there were shapes and signs, crosses, turtles, people and dates, and rocks piled up in improbable looking little towers and bridges. It was desolate for miles and miles, when had all of these people come and made these tributes and why? They were so human and moving in a way, it's one of the most distinct and intriguing things I've seen on our trip so far.
Of course Mom, ever the pragmatist despoiler, went off on a tangent about how all of this writing represented wasted time and was probably just the doodlings of out of work people with nothing better to do. You wanna bet that on a spiritual level spending an hour gathering white rocks and laying them out in some special way on a field of crunchy black lava wouldn't be a finer thing than anything a CEO could find to do in some office or boardroom? I'm reading a book by a man who after years of driving himself to make more and more money, finally laid it all down and moved to Hawaii where he mourns the time lost, and now grey haired and bent celebrates the small things which to him have now finally become great, sitting on the beach, listening to the waves and the birds, looking at the shape of his sleeping woman, being grateful for being alive.
I have so many little bits and pieces, fragments of stories to share with you, but right now I just want to take a stroll around this mega-resort and see what I can find to cherish and anchor myself to before bed. Scott is performing tonight, send him good wishes and love for me Tomorrow I have a date with a volcano.
Love you guys,