"Oh my, what doors have opened?" Leslie Mills felt the tingle ride up and down her arms. The Black-and-whites slowly rose from their places on the soft couch pillows. Tic nudged Leslie's elbow, a soft low doggie moan confirmed Leslie's gut. Time had slipped.
"Uncle Moon." Beatrix was sobbing deeply, the small dog rode her belly like surf.
"Honey, dis is one special day and we," the man extended his arms to include the others. "have waited. I brought da flowers. They waited too." A red-covered plastic tub with a clear lid was filled with puakenikeni. Even before the lid popped open the smell permeated the room.
A soft voice whispered into Leslie's ear,"Is this even possible?" It was Alexa, the young intern. Uncle Moon regarded her and smiled. In his uhane form all senses were finely-tuned and his humor primarily so. "It's only Tupperware. My wife, loved da stuff had cupboards filled with any kine size, and shape. She had 'em. Whoa, yeh, I guess dis is stretching tings little bit, but in moe 'uhane tings overlap when destiny finally has chance for string tings togeda." 2
Bea realized that in this dream her Uncle was speaking town pidgin. Not too thick, but definitely not standard English. Moon Amona crossed the airways considerate of his small audience, the intern was not to be left out. The familiar sound of the hybrid language was nectar of place, and comfort for her ripening soul. The look of mischief and delight that too often disappeared when she was Beatrix Blunt rippled from her. The blonde took note.
Next ...
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1 "Ten-cent flower" is the literal translation for the two inches long, white, changing to orange fragrant blossom used for leis.
2 Dream time; literally 'soul sleep'
A note about the footnotes: unless otherwise credited, the definitions used here come right out of the Hawaiian Dictionary, 1971 Edition, Mary Kawena Pukui and Samuel Elbert.
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