Little house in Hale'iwa full of love

By Trislyn Tom
Special to The Advertiser

"I like the sands spreading out to the sea

I like the tropical moons and the lazy palm trees

I like to listen to my heart, there's no place I'd rather be-ee-ee-ee-ee."

This song in particular always seems to remind me of my little Halei'wa house. It's a simple house on the shore. Snuggled on the northern side of the island, it's a good 45 minutes away from bustling city life.

The laid-back lifestyle out in the country is how I spent many summer days as a child.

Bare feet, sunburned backs, sunscreen, aloe, the sweet smell of BBQ

on the grill, the sound of the waves pounding on the shoreline, my cousins screaming at the thrills of crab hunting, my father's inflatable raft rumbling through the surf.

Neighbors, friends and family all gathered around the worn picnic bench, sharing and catching up on lost time. These are the images that come to me as I rock and sing along to the beautiful melodies of the "Moloka'i Slide."

It was the home of my first torch fishing lessons. I can still hear my father as he directed us through the clear, glassy waters. "Aim at an angle when spearing. Don't try and hit the fish straight down. Be careful; try not to splash too much, or you'll wake them. Shhhh."

Slowly, we'd creep through the knee-high water in search of a catch. By the end of the night, our nets would be gleaming with hues of blue and silver, and occasionally a little sparkle of orange.

I remember the first time we caught an eel. My cousin and I first discovered it asleep, curled amongst the tangled seaweed. Slowly we crept up on it.

Overwhelmed with excitement, we forgot to angle our spears. The eel was too quick for us and it dodged each and every one of our attempts. Then my

father came along, saw what we had been toying with, and immediately got us out of the way.

Torching was just one of the activities the little house offered. I remember crab hunting, the pitter-patter of bare feet splashing along the shoreline. All eyes on my father as we waited for him to shine his night light down along the sand. "Quick the big one is heading into the water!" "Hurry, he's stunned by the light."

The adults would guide us and muse at our foolish attempts to capture one, two, three crabs all at once. Sand would fly as we all lunged for our scattered prey. The silent night, broken by the shrieks and laughter of young keiki.

These memories flood my mind whenever I think about my little Hale'iwa house. I miss those carefree days — days spent with family members — swimming, fishing, and laughing followed by nights of campfires, smores and hot cocoa.

Trislyn Tom graduated from Punahou School and attends Santa Clara University. Her father, Lyle Tom, sent in this essay.