Posted on: Sunday, April 3, 2005
Family comes through when hope nearly fades
By Ka'ohua Lucas
"OK, gang." I made a quick announcement to my 'ohana as I finished washing the griddle. "We've got to leave here by 9 o'clock to make it to church on time."
It was Easter Sunday. Dad and the two boys were flopped on the pune'e (daybed) glued to the TV set.
"Maopopo?" I asked. (Do you understand?)
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," my husband yawned, stretching his body the full length of the couch and steamrolling over our 11-year-old as he yelped in delight.
As I continued my journey around the house, picking up discarded plastic eggs and synthetic Easter grass, I called out to my 14-year-old:
"Could you throw a load of clothes in the wash?"
Silence.
"Hui! Numba one son," I called out, again, returning to the kitchen to wipe down the counter tops.
"Huh?" I heard a muffled response. "Are you talking to me, Mom?"
My eldest was buried from head to toe in blankets. Several pillows were designed like a skyscraper towering atop his head, an architectural structure my youngest had built just moments earlier.
I clawed through the pillows to finally discover a tuft of 'ehu (reddish-tinged) hair.
"Please put a load of clothes on," I said, trying to remain calm.
Just as I finished urging him to start moving, my 11-year-old and his father dropped to the floor.
A loud thud of human flesh crashing to the wooden floors shook our home.
"Stop it, Dad!" my youngest cried out, giggling.
"You will do as I say," my husband shouted less than two inches from our son's face as he poked and prodded his index finger into the ribs of our son.
"You heard your mother," he continued. "It's time to get ready for church!"
My youngest screamed, laughing as he thrashed around on the floor, trying to escape his father's grasp.
"Honey," I half-scolded him. "This is not helping at all. We've got 20 minutes to get ready and get out of here."
As my eldest shuffled to the washing machine, the wrestling match subsided.
"Come on, son," I urged. "Get ready!"
"But I don't know what to wear," the youngest whined.
"It's chilly today," I said, opening his dresser drawer and pulling out a pair of fatigue-green shorts and dress shirt.
It took us about 20 minutes for my two sons and I to get ready.
As I scooped up the eggs we would be using for the church Easter egg hunt, I looked over at the pune'e.
My husband was sprawled out on it, dozing.
"Dad," I half-shouted. "We've got to go!"
"OK," he rolled over on his side. "I'm coming, but, first, I need to take a shower."
"Hurry, please," I urged.
A half-hour later, we were all in the van ready to go.
My husband slipped the key into the ignition and turned it on. The engine didn't turn over. There wasn't even a sputter.
We looked at each other.
"Is it the battery?" I asked.
"I think I left my headlights on yesterday," he confessed. "I must have forgotten to turn them off."
"OK, gang," I commanded. "We're taking the truck."
With Easter eggs, cookies and a Sunday newspaper in tow, we crammed into our Ford Ranger and eventually made it to the church — although 40 minutes late.
There is a Hawaiian proverb that describes a person who has just about given up hope when the person — in this case, my family — shows some response.
O ke ao aku noho 'i koe, 'aina 'e ka ha'uliuli: It was almost day when the ha'uliuli fish began to take the bait.
Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.
