We’re late for the party.
We’ve loaded ourselves into the car, bags of food offerings packed in the backseat, while the Bohemian holds the cake in his lap.
Two minutes out of the driveway and he realizes he’s forgotten the lei he made. We turn around, go back, retrieve the lei, head out again.
It’s a Saturday, it’s a party, there’s no real looming schedule. Yet, there is that underlying tension of getting ourselves and our gear there on time.
Ok, ok. We’re going. On a mission. I’ll get us there.
I veer onto the one-lane road, almost at our destination. I can see a car ahead in the distance, coming our way. The width of the road will only accommodate one car at a time. This means delay. I sigh, pull over to the side and wait.
I glance at the frosting on the cake in the Bohemian’s lap, getting softer by the minute. Jeb fidgets in the back seat. My hands grip the steering wheel. No where to go until the car ahead has passed.
I look through the windshield, to a stand of bamboo by the roadside. The pointed leaves catching sunlight in a rattling dance of gold and green. No sound reaches us within our metal bubble. Just evidence of an invisible source, shaping movement and flitting shadows. The wind blows. The leaves shake. I am soothed with simplicity.
The car passes. It’s our turn now. I give the driver a nod and wave. But she hardly notices as she buzzes past. Her hands on the wheel, face fixed, driving on a mission.