The Valley

Where the road ends at Pololu Valley Lookout on the “Big Island,” Akoni Pule Highway deposits us at the beginning. Well, close. It’s a few valleys further beyond Pololu, up the other side, down again and up again on a trail used more frequently by pigs than men. The forth valley is were his first memories begin. There are seven valleys on the Northeastern tip of the Big Island which long ago cut into the Northeastern side of Kohala Mountain. His world was smaller then, and he knew just the one.

The Boys

Radiant red flame streaked over the heights. Our piece of the rock turned to greet the star. Dense fog which had settled heavy on jagged peaks resisted the change like a depressed glutton ensconced on a bench at an all you can eat buffet. As the warm glistening rays increase over Maine’s High Peaks Region they articulate a whisper of relief, sending streams of brilliant starlight tumbling across the tops of hearty Pitch Pines.

What had begun as a night of uneasy concern, had blossomed into fulfillment and hope.

A Child Was Born

She had fought hard for this one and her eyes reflected the struggle. She lay back smiling with quiet joyful peace and relieved exhaustion. Sleep my love. Yet sleep escaped both mother and child, weariness and immediate need taunted the two. Hearty lungs in concert with thrashing arms and legs demanded just compensation, for he too had contended, willing himself into this new world.

It was late October and we should have been comfortably settled in our winter home weeks ago. Summer surrendered quickly to the chill of mountain shadows this late in the season. Damp pregnant clouds hung suspended over the land, behemothic celestial lakes in desperate need of release.

Exploring their world

Revisiting those days, we both recognized our focus must remain on this new life. Yet nothing would dispel the nagging suspicion, we had overlooked the signs. Our human drive to understand, to be in control, having compelled us to stay, grasping for some reason in this harsh veiled land now smugly uttered accusations of doubt, leaving us unsettled and uneasily straining at the ghosts of illusive probabilities.

The Child Grew, spirited, loud, filled with zestful exuberance. Days melted into weeks, weeks into months, and the child grew strong. Toy cars became dinosaurs and dragons. Dragons became shadows in the dark. The blackness withheld secrets from this child of light. Someone was watching.

It is said, “Fortune smiles on the Bold.” Gabe