Moments Like This by Anna Gomez & Kristoffer Polaha

Author:Anna Gomez & Kristoffer Polaha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vesuvian Books
Published: 2021-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hitachi Tree

Friday morning. The sun was already hot and bright as it hung low in the Hawaiian sky. I was excited about the day that lay ahead of me. I had asked Warren if there were any waterfalls on Oahu.

“Sadly, not too many, but I’ll show you the ones I can,” he’d said.

That was the plan for today—another trip to the North Shore for a hike along the Waimea River. He pulled up right at eight o’clock. Not that I was complaining. His punctuality was one thing, but truth be told, I couldn’t wait to spend those Fridays with him. Part of me expected a surf bum to run on island time, but he always managed to surprise me. Of course, I had the beans and bites waiting in hand, something he never asked for but had come to count on.

We hit the road, back on the scooter this time. Back up the H2, passing the plantation on our way. I was overcome with a yearning to see the people at the farm—a sign of belonging, of being rooted in their midst. Hawaii was starting to feel like home to me and I knew my time here was running out.

We pulled up to a little parking lot at the beach on Waimea Bay. Warren locked his helmets to the scooter, lifted the moped up and over the kickstand and parked it. He tucked the little key in the pocket of his camouflage cargo shorts, which he’d paired with a black T-shirt. He looked good this morning. I was wearing short shorts and a white tee. Apparently, we were going to do some hiking today so we both had on sneakers.

“Waimea Bay is fed by the Waimea River and when it rains, all sorts of food for sharks gets washed down the river into the bay. So, note to self, when it’s raining, and the river is flowing, stay out of the bay. I’ve known sharks in there to follow surfers all the way back to shore. But, if the river is running fast, it actually makes a really fun wave where the river meets the bay. You can ride on it for as long as you can stand on your board. There’s usually a line to drop in, but if you come out here when the weather is really nasty, you’ll be the only brave soul.”

“Note taken. Next nasty storm, I’ll grab my board and head to the mouth of the river,” I teased.

That was something that had recently found its way into our friendship—my humor. It could be a blend of sarcasm and wit; either you get it and think I’m funny, or you don’t. Warren got it. And his bite was even more fun.

“Good, just make sure you don’t fall off your board and end up as shark food.”

Our laughter filled the air. We crossed the road and headed onto the trailhead. The path was paved, but the asphalt was wet from an early morning rainfall. Within

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