Christmas in Hawaii

The halls tingle when I wake, as if something special is in store for the day; this day that is both sunset and sunrise, hello and goodbye, but in perpetual hues of red, pink, and orange all the same. No longer mindless on my journey to Hope's door- although it does seem a level of pleasant distraction has replaced this sense, leaving me none the more mindful- I find myself there, though now realizing I have not whistled to announce my arrival as I have often done before. No matter, there will be no more delay in starting our day! I knock, and prepare for the heat nearly certain to follow. She flings open the door, eyes blazing as always, her guard not relenting in general for our adventures so far. As soon as she meets my gaze this time I see fireworks fly off the flames, diminishing their fury, but the remainder of her look remains stern, as I have come to guess that there is a cadence to this encounter with her form in full, one I am unfamiliar with perse, but a rhythm I have been apparently trained beneath notice to step to. "Adventure time? I was thinking of making it Dealer's Choice today. Where you wanna go?"

 

I can feel a tension in the air as it feels like she takes a step back, but physically she has not moved an inch. Then flame turns to electricity, and arcs to the floor, in an instant I am standing surrounded by blue. Good thing I'm insulated, I think, making sure to stand still and not touching a thing. This storm continues but with perfect calm, a little loud perhaps to convey excitement in a way foreign to me, she replies "Christmas in Hawaii." 

 

"Christmas in Hawaii!? Nonsense." She cocks her head to the side, unaccustomed to such a response. Before clarifying, I respond with a rhyme.

 

"As luck would have it energy abounds

Within your words as mine is most scanty

Still voltage never ceases to astound

With its oscillating uncertainty

 

I stand here struggling with empty space

Why does it feel like a hail of bullets?

Is this misery plain upon my face

Though paintings dodged are of ultraviolets?

 

As chance would have it reasons slip reason

Boiling down to a girl fully loaded

These mirrored gauntlets each labeled treason

Infinitely small angles exploded

 

This is not my best work, if we reflect

Each other then why is yours sans defect?"

 

I realize this is the first time I have spoken one of my poems to her so directly; if curiosity could be seen in her visage, it is this. Without delay however I say "I love nonsense. Let's go!" She does not break eye contact, was that a whisper in my mind? "You have not changed." Alas, who can be sure? Without a word she closes the door and the storm subsides, I marvel from where I stand as the remaining bolts seem to skitter into corner and edge, as if scrambling to get out of sight, with nothing directly yet to light. 

 

As the last sparks still dissipate, she opens the door once more, to my slight surprise grown once again. Much taller I'd say, tiny no more, but in her eyes very much the little girl from the nights before. This time I offer my arm, though there's a bit of a gap, I feel we can bridge it with a slight lean. She assesses my stance and then grabs me at the elbow. "Off to the islands we go!" Steps turn to skipping, and we speed through the halls, laughing through the floating lights interspersed in sunset, sunrise, and spark.

 

We emerge back near the shoreline. Though more difficult to determine in the afternoon sun, it seems to be the private beach we watched the lights float to the horizon on only nights before. "I liked this beach too, I feel like neither of us are big fans of the crowd." She looks around expectantly, and I feel like I gather as to why. I look overhead and a nearby tree holds the key. "Look, Christmas!" She looks up and spots the palm tree, up in its great leafy heights are a string of Christmas lights. She lights up as well, and we make our way over, sitting underneath to watch the sea.

 

I get lost in the waves, both the sight and the sound, for a time it seems we both do. As the sun seems to creep noticeably down, about an hour from sunset my trance is interrupted. "I got this for you." I look over with surprise at familiar words and seasonal sentiment on point, it may very well be her first Christmas after all, how is one to know? "You've done your homework, thank you!" I accept the small box, wrapped in green paper with a red bow. "Even the colors are right!" She lights up all the more at my delight, and I open the box to see my new prize. Inside is a blue kazoo, a curious gift, but amazing for its unexpected nature. "Thank you so much!" I give her a hug, and she squeezes me back, I can tell a touch saddened at a loss for words. I blow into the kazoo a few times, making a goofy little song to celebrate the occasion as confetti drops down in concert as if from the trees. "Such nonsense is to be expected, in times like these." To mark the occasion I turn to the sea and produce a few lines.

 

"Watching northern lights

Darkmaw as might devour

Lighthouse shifting seas

 

Do not one line waste

Nor leave one ship unsailored

They all will reach shore.

 

But you will reach yours(ours)

Tiniest hope spitshined clean

Disgraced nevermore

 

The mark secured it

Teeth gnashed in secret confirmed

Then luck overflowed

 

Under fingernails

Carefully scratched DNA

More measured the same

 

Tales told to sailors

'These will not make sense tonight

Howling in dark storm

 

But by light some morn'

These dreams and lines will align

To make unclean clean

 

Ho boldly baby!

Each of you this storm your own

Onward back to home!'"

 

"What are northern lights?" I knew she heard, but I had no idea she listened so closely. "They are lights in the sky, another interaction with the sun and our sky, only seen by the poles, in this case the north pole. I speak of things to come, lights yet to be seen in this story." She seems intrigued, but before her imagination steals her from me I produce a box of my own. "And I got this for you!" Her excitement rises once more as she eyes the purple wrapping and colorful bow hungrily. "Go ahead, open it!" She snatches it up and tears through the outside with alacrity, until she pulls out a matching purple notebook with a pen affixed atop. She flips through the pages excitedly, but finding them blank she looks back up at me puzzled. "Now which page contains more value, one that is filled or one that is blank?" I can tell she considers now the process by which words and page meet, and it seems that is the only domino I need to push for the love of writing to bloom within her. Still, I continue "It is a matter of perspective see, and we are writers, you and me. We are the ones who turn blank spaces into incredible things. Every word read has been written, and now you have the tools to do each." I see her eyes go wide and the fire I have seen behind growing within. "Now this journal is yours, I will not read it unless you have something you'd like to show me, and then I will. Fill it as you'd like, perhaps with poems, songs, observations, journal entries, or daydreams." She sits with her back to the tree, at an angle where I could clearly see the page if I so chose, and holds the fully loaded pen to her chin, preparing to begin. Per my word, I look back out over the sea, granting her privacy. "The woman I love asked for something just like this once, in a place not that dissimilar from this one. I thought you would appreciate having one of your own." "I love it." Hope says, resting her head now on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and blow my kazoo in celebration, this has been a good day.

 

I feel myself zone out to the sound of the waves and pen upon page. I can tell she writes furiously, perhaps the first time she has had such an outlet for her thoughts. As the sun begins to set I feel myself fade back into awareness, as many ships start becoming apparent on the sea. At first it seems like it could be coincidence, but then more and more dot the waves and I realize their source. "Hey, it's a lot like the poem! I see ships all asailored, out in the tides." She looks up and smiles. "How is the weather?" I scan the horizon, clear skies as far as the eyes can see, save a few clouds near the sunset. "All clear, my dear. Red skies at night, sailor's delight." Something about this excites her all the more; curious, I examine the ships closely. While at this distance I cannot say for certain, it looks like they rock and sway vigorously, as if buffeted and resisting some unseen storm. As the sun finally sets I whisper "Well now isn't that interesting?"

 

Hope still writes as I watch the light of the sun fade; I wonder to myself how she can still see. When it seems darkness has fully settled, just then the lights above us turn on, yet another curiosity on this remote beach without a seen hookup. She looks up and then down, and writes what seems to be her final line for the night. Just like that every palm tree on the beach lights up in purple, blue, green, red, yellow, and orange. I stand to my feet and marvel at the lights; Hope refastens her pen, tucks her notebook under her arm and stands with me, now taking my hand. "This is better than what I had planned." I admit, honestly. We turn toward the forest to return to the halls, and I notice Christmas lights line our path back home as well. I feel myself smile wide, squeezing her hand, but otherwise marking these sights with only an atypical silence; then we journey forth.

 

All through the halls the Christmas lights are up, and lit, and it is marvelous. I see some of the Jack-o'-lanterns have been replaced beneath fresh cobwebs, now more intricately carved than before, and I "ooh!" and "ahh!" and even kazoo at the spectacle. Just outside her door I spot one of a superbly crafted pirate ship and remark "The 'Ritzy Gourd a' Lore!'" She giggles and nods. I give her a hug, before adding "I'll be back tomorrow." Expecting a silence I smile, which is returned but, before preparing to leave, Hope tugs at my sleeve. I pause, uncertain as to what to expect. She opens her journal to a particular page and tears it out. She folds it in eighths and then hands it to me. "Thank you!" She nods and opens her door, swinging it closed behind her.

 

I walk back through the halls, now both Christmas and Halloween, blowing my kazoo like a song, as if a whistle augmented, in memory of the day. I remember the page and unfold it as I walk, but stop in my tracks. "I will never forget this day, our Christmas, thank you so much." Beneath it is a large heart, filled in with purple ink. "Now where did she get that color!?" I remark, as if it were the strangest thing I had seen today. I smirk at the nonsense, refold the note, and tuck it into my pocket before proceeding back to my room.