The house we are in at the North Shore is wonderful. It is a short walk to Food Land, a great beach that feels private because there is hardly anyone else there, and another beach that has beautiful snorkeling, but seems to attract people who like to smoke and leave their butts behind. I felt like I was lying in an ashtray.
This morning we walked to mass. They gave Bruce an orchid boutineer as he walked in and said “Happy Father’s Day”. The mass got a late start because the priest had been saying another mass up the road and had become stuck in traffic. But he was worth the wait! He made us feel welcome. Not because he singled anyone out, but because he smiled, welcomed the entire congregation with a sincerity I never see at home, and talked like a person, not a high priest. The best news of the morning is that it looks like Father Damien is well on his way to becoming a saint later this year. If anyone deserves it, he does!
Lying on the beach this afternoon, watching the kids play in the waves for hours on end, I heard a teenager near me proclaim to the girl with him “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.” I am not sure that is the sweet nothing I would want whispered in my ear, but I decided that I love Hawaii like a fat kid loves cake.
