As Gavin splashed happily in the sink, experimenting with soap and toothbrushes, my mother called to beg me for a favor. She had forgotten to bring a present for the staff party, and I needed to assemble something and deliver it up. I got a basket and stuffed it with packets of instant cider, chai, Christmas candy, and the McDonalds gift certificates Mike had won at his Christmas party. After a few pathetic attempts to wrap the basket, I tied a sagging bow around it and popped Gavin in the car for the ride.
The road to Kaaawa is dangerous on a good day; it's one of those winding country roads with two narrow lanes, no visibility, and a poor excuse for a shoulder. As Gavin drooped slowly into sleep, I turned up the music and watched the ocean waves against the rocks on the side of the road. The giant trees were covered with vines and fruits, and tiny yellow leaves showered the road, almost glittering in the sun. We passed the ranch, where a cowboy rode through the fields with his rope flying, and I enjoyed the smell of hay and manure as we rounded the bend. The mountains split open past the ranch, into a valley with tiny white birds flying in the mist. As we parked behind my mother's white bug and I pulled my limp baby from his seat, I regretted that I hadn't brought our suits, to take advantage of the beach on such a clear, warm day. Maybe I'll take him swimming this afternoon.
Gavin is up now, my mother has her gift, and I stopped by 7-11 to pick up musubi and drinks for lunch. It's time to drive home. My assignments are done, school is out, and I have nothing to do but enjoy the day.
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