Last night I was out walking through our abandoned golf course, obviously crawling with coronavirus germs that were on the lookout for recalcitrant walkers who were trying in vain to get in their 10,000 steps, and I realized that this beautiful course was designed by the same fellow who designed the Ko Olina Golf Course.
So, that is why we had the purple and dark-blue cutouts that during the day pose as mountains, but, during the crepuscule (!), are, in reality, framers of the wondrous. The sky at that time of the day made it worthwhile to be out searching for all of my balls lost in the murky, spheroid sucking lakes.
It was beautiful.
I was reminded of a time a long time ago when we had just moved to Pearl City. I was thirteen and everyone was gone on this Friday evening. And, for some reason, I was sad . . could have been because I was living in a new place or I didn’t have any friends or I was just a stupid thirteen year old teen-ager wannabe. Who knows?
But, I was so sad, I left the house on Hoohaku St. ran down to Kam Hiway, took a right turn and ran to Farrington Hiway and onto Waipahu. For some reason, that didn’t make me happy, either. I was still sad, but I also realized that being in the park in Waipahu at night was probably not the best . . so I ran back home.
I am not the sharpest tool in the toolshed, but I did learn a valuable lesson that night . . running to Waipahu doesn’t make one happier.