11
Piko Point
Hopena
Destiny; fate; consequence; ending.
Saturday morning, I stood at Piko Point near the big saltwater pool waiting for Maka.
Down the beach and up the hill, I could see the pavilion and all the art students busy with big paint rollers. Our magical invisible pavilion was transforming back into a boring off-white public building again.
I’m going to miss my drawing of ‘Iolani soaring against the mountains.
I love flying that kite, but the picture of Pua on the beach couldn’t stay.
Maybe Kalei was right.
It’s better not to have records of things you’d rather forget.
On the Nalupuki-side of the lava divide, the surf was rolling in at a steady six to eight feet, perfect for surfing.
Across the street, Hari’s was doing a booming business in shave ice and plate lunches
