Toads, Turtles, & Tales
My trip to the Hawaiian Islands was cut
short because my traveling companion turned out to be an ill-mannered toad,
instead of Prince Charming; nevertheless, I did come away with some delightful
observations.
First off, I discovered that dark
boulders floating in the blue Pacific waters off Maui are really sea turtles
swimming towards the black lava strewn shore. If you watch long enough you’ll
notice every few minutes their little heads pop-up gasping for a deep breath,
or are they looking around to make sure that they’re swimming in the right
direction?
The second day as I buried my feet deep in
the brown-sugar sands looking at the horizon, I spotted a dazzling white ship
in the distance. Then in a flash, it was gone. Is this a trick of the sun? No.
Much to my enchantment, it was a pod of free spirited humpback whales flipping
their tails high in the air, and then slapping them down with all their might
sending plumes of icy-salt-spray towards the sky. I would sit patiently waiting
for them to flaunt with grace their ability to do another awe-inspiring
high-flying belly flop or a front pike half-twist dive.
On the third day, I stand high on a cliff
in Hookipa above the ocean. This is where the local big boys surf…very
cool! I hear the rhythmic accents and
Jamaican music floating in the air. The surfers look more like nimble
skateboarders. I watch a zig-zag-tuck and the rider is airborne…then suddenly
freefalling out of sight. The audience releases a breath in unison when the
surfer swims to the surface. Oh my gawd,
I notice another agile surfer catching a wave and he’s headed under the frothy
white curl of a 15-footer. I gasp and stare along with the other spectators.
I confess I tend to be a worrywart. Let’s
put it this way, when my kids were young I was that mom who watched all
of the kids on the playground. I was ever ready to bolt into action if anyone
got hurt or when another child was about to hurt my baby, I would get in their
face. Needless to say, years later, I’ve not changed much.
Therefore, taking advantage of my
excellent observation spot on the cliff, I watch each surfer as if I birthed
them myself. I count each head as they come up; grab their board attached to
their ankle, and start paddling out to catch yet another perfect wave.
However, after one monstrous crushing wave
swallowed several riders, I saw this surfer go under and never come back
up. The hair on the back of my neck
stands on end. My stomach does a flip-flop.
Franticly I scan the beach below. Where are the lifeguards? Am I the only one that sees this drowning? The surfboard is missing. I think he lost it
or is the board caught under rocks and he is held under the water by that
stupid-strap around his ankle? I know I’m right when I see another quick
glimpse of his dark head. I don’t know what to do. Please Lord, I do not want
to see a dead body.
Alarmed I shriek to the stranger standing
next to me. “See that spot?” My arms are flailing; my hands are flying as I
point toward the bubbling foam, close to shore. “I keep seeing a head float up
to the surface. And now that guy is going to be slammed into the rocks!”
“Ya he’ll be okay,” the Maui native says.
Then taking a double look at my pale face and the wild look in my eyes, he
slowly flashes his pearly whites. “It’s a turtle.”
