Dateline: Oahu, Hawaii
Aprile 12, 2018
They are dropping off the brats. I have worked out from the early morning calls and crying of the whales, between four a.m. and dawn, that the big pod of parents and relatives have some close-in pool not far from me where they park the little ones while they go off and hunt for food, or do whatever adult whales do. They leave the complaining kids behind in this 'protected' spot. For some reason, the kids stay. But they don't like it, or they are afraid the pod will not come back or move on without them. So, in typical kid fashion, they let those feelings and fears be known.
Now, I am not sure about any of this but it makes about as much sense as anything else I can come up with. I am getting well experienced in being out there on the
lanai overlooking the pool I imagine to be not far offshore. There are two kids. There is one dominant, and probably female, a parent with a bunch of other lesser voices. The kids cry and the pod replies from a great distance. Unfortunately, I never get to see a damn thing. The whole kit and kaboodle are gone by the time first light makes its presence known. And I am awake as can be, their unknown shore-based supporter on his third cup of coffee, concerned and bright-eyed, going into the day until another night overcomes him.
The blackbird returns to eat the small pieces of bread I strew about. The cat door was unused, as I wait to discover who my kitchen visitor is, as life centers in, to become beautiful and meaningful, as it should always be but only occasionally is. This is one of those better days.
Better than what? Better than whatever...