My parents came to visit me. It was odd. Not the way you would have guessed it. The odd part was how odd it wasn't. Did I lose you there? I went on a mission for two years and came home to a family I had little communication with for that time. I had to readjust. It was weird being around my parents again. I grew accustomed to it. Then I moved to Hawaii to go to school. I was only gone for 4 months when I came home for Summer. From August 1st to present, I have not left the island. I figured seeing them again would be odd. Instead it was like old times. I hugged my mom, then my dad and I had that awkward moment. Not from not having seen each other, but from wondering what form of contact would be appropriate for the occasion. You see, my dad and I don't make physical contact. Any contact? Well, maybe eye contact, sparingly, but that's about as close as it gets. We did a sort of salute. It worked. Then they told me the adventure of their stay on Kauai before they visited me.
Not long after they got there, Mom had lost her credit card. She looked everywhere for it. Dad sat by mildly amused. While fussing over the credit card, Mom had gotten out of the car and my dad followed, also preoccupied by the event. This caused him to forget the fact that the keys to the car where still in said car. They had to get on the phone, call the card company to cancel the card and call the car rental place to have them send a new key over via taxi (which cost them). When they got the new key they opened the door, and Mom opened her purse to find the card neatly placed in it (probably obscured form the 10 packs of free butter and 72 napkins and 2 rolls smuggled out of the restaurant they went to for dinner the prior night). It was funny and less surprising than it should have been. I was just glad they did have the right car and found their way back to the airport in time for the flight.
While here we had fun. We went around the Polynesian Cultural Center (PCC) for a day.
Parents at the Easter Island display of the PCC
Then came the time for them to meet Jessica. Everybody was way too excited for this, including me. It was like a test in everybody's mind. My mom asked how they did after meeting Jessica. Jessica asked me how she did. I asked myself why I just do so well. Questions all around...
While at the Seasider (our poor excuse for a diner) eating ice cream I got a call from a friend of mine and we made plans to go to Winter Ball together. After my phone conversation, Mom looked at me causiously, then to Jessica, then back to me. Dad looked at his ice cream.
The next morning after my mom told me to go back and comb my hair again and she folded my clothes in my dorm room (glad to have no roomate), she pulled me aside and said it was unwise and perhaps insensitive to mention that I was going with another girl to the Winter Ball right in front of Jessica. Jessica also made mention of that to me later the night I made the plans asking if my mom was worried about her. Good call. I had to disarm my mom so I told her the truth. Jessica was asked weeks ago by another guy and had already made her plans. My mom was not relieved, but reconciled.
We spent much of the time having casually sight seeing. While taking a road trip to see the other side of the island (Makaha), my mom looked at my father and asked one of the most poignet and thought provoking questions of our time, "Is God a tuna?"
Mom has had her share of blonde moments. That's why she has dyed her hair brown, because she wanted to know what it was like to be a blonde (her own words). But this one was unique. It wasn't even what we dub "happy hour" which is a magical time of night, around 9pm, when she gets punch drunk and goofy as a retarded kitten swimming in cat nip. After the laughter had ceased, we realized that she saw a bumper sticker in either Tongan or Samoan which had the word "Atuna" on it. She wondered if that word translated into English as "God". That made more sense. Most of what she does will make sense - if you have the time to decipher it.
At the end of our last day together we were in Kaneohe. They had to go back into Honolulu for the second time that day to fly home. The first was just the two of them...and Jessica. Don't ask, I don't wanna talk about it. To save them another long drive back to Laie, I offered to just take The Bus home. When my bus drew near, I hugged Mom again to say goodbye. I looked at my dad and pondered the appropiate departure protocol. I had ruled out the sporty slap of the butt. The kiss on the cheek was creepy. Hand shake at this juncture would just be cornball. I tried an experiment. I put my arms out and tried a hug. It was stuff, a bit ridged and probably the second hug we had. There might have been an accidental one at my missionary homecoming in all the confusion. I was glad to see them. Suprisingly not as glad to see them go as I would have guessed. I would probably be trying to hang myself in the shower right now if I were to still be living there, but it was fun to be with them (absence makes the heart grow fonder).
While here they took me to the PCC (I got them great discounts), bought be a few meals, some laundry soap, a new pair of pants and shorts, new slippahs, a t-shirt and an Aloha shirt. I appreciated the gifts which I was not expecting. I neglected to get my mom a birthday gift (which was the day after they left) due to lack of opportunity and fiscal security, but she assured me that seeing me was all the gift enough. After having them buy me gifts and being with them, then comparing the two, I think I am starting to see what that trite phrase means. There may be something to it after all.
...but I'm not above taking any more free gifts they may feel inclined to offer...
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