I floated alone in the cove, lounging on one of the tubes as the gentle waves from the skiff rocked me back and forth. I watched as Dad let my friend out near the shore, then turned back toward the small boat landing. The sun shimmered on the water, and the sounds of laughter and splashes filled the air as other kids played nearby, but I felt a sense of calm in my solitude.
Rolling off my tube, I dove into the water and swam toward the deepest part of the cove. “Come on out!” I called, urging him to join me, my voice echoing over the water. As I looked back, I noticed him standing on the shore, his body rigid, staring at the inviting waves with uncertainty. The hesitation was palpable, and I felt a playful urge to draw him out of his shell.
“Chicken!” I taunted, letting my playful side shine as I mimicked a clucking chicken. “Buk-buk-buk-bu-gock!” My laughter danced over the water. The sound made him shift slightly, as if my teasing was a nudge. The ocean water began to creep up his legs, past his waist, and finally to his chest, and still, he waded in slowly, gathering courage amidst the laughter.
When the water reached his chin, he finally began to swim, kicking and clawing at the water in a frenzy. I could see the determination on his face as he aimed his chin skyward and powered out toward me. He swam past, circled me, and then turned back toward the beach, a glimmer of victory in his eyes. From my vantage point, I spotted Dad watching from the pier, a firm figure against the backdrop of the cove, his presence providing reassurance.
I swam effortlessly, gliding through the water without making much of a splash. “Let’s dive to the bottom!” I suggested, excitement bubbling in my voice. But my friend didn’t respond, still focused on making his way back to shore. I felt a twinge of disappointment but respected his pace, soaking in the warm sun and cool water while I waited.
A little while later, Dad joined me on the sand. I was back on the edge of the water, still hanging over the side of my tube like a sleepy sea creature, feeling the liquid coolness against my sun-warmed skin. “You did great out there today, Sonny,” he said, gesturing toward the harbor with his chin. After a moment, he added, “I’m proud of you.” As I paddled ashore, the black tube dripping over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of him getting up and making his way over to the Jeep, while dust swirled up behind us, settling into the dry trees like a soft veil. Aunty Pearl stepped onto the porch, her black hair twisted into a tight knot, and waved at us as we rumbled into the yard. She reminded me of old pictures of Hawaiian queens—tall and wide, draped in full-length muumuus, embodying the vibrant spirit of our island home.