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They Call

Rising before instinct completes my sleep, rousing common sense out of bed, I pack the car.  It's so dark the moon is still drowsing. Soon I am in the cool ocean, arms propelling me and a surfboard, stomach submerged and chest free through white water splashes, then crests breaking, then up and over their shoulders to arrive at the very place where waves emerge from calm water. At this hour there are only a handful of other dawn-patrol surfers, all Hawaiians. Greeting with a smile of bright grace learned from the sun, and a cheerful How'z It? brown glowing skin tattooed with small triangle patterns on strong arms, chests, backs, emblems of kama'aina heritage and Aloha's honor.   A little talk story, sharing a laugh, and I sit up to take sentinal, beginning the quiet meditation searching the horizon for the sea's ever-changing intention. Morning wakes color, with sleepy palms rubs away the world's hushed gray veil revealing sky blue on royal aquamarine and palm-tree green silhouetting tropical canyon jade. The mountain's gold-rimmed halo of mist is announcing dawn's imminent arrival. She bursts over the ridge, arms showering the water with tiny pebbles of light gold jewels skipping across the sparkling surface and turning silver. It must be so beautifully curious from below, the whale's eye view here in their sanctuary. First we see a mysterious dark shape, a nose, that morphs into an ever-expanding building, that materializes into the entire magnificent whale suspended in our thin world then arching over, she bursts the water, scattering dawn's sparkling treasure. We surfers call with uncharacteristic exclamations, pointing in excitement, So close we can feel the whale's contagious joy. One Hawaiian woman slides off her board, to place her ear on the water in reverie; hearing the Kahunas ancient Aumakua call.
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Written by
life-nomadic
American
For You?
Written by
life-nomadic
American
Published
Jan 3, 2013
Lines·Words
42·298
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Copyright © 2013 Anna Honda. All Rights Reserved.

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