Winter in Waikiki

I don’t mind the rain any more, not even cold rain.  When skies turn the color of graphite, a memory emerges from behind the clouds.  I’m part of a small clutch of tourists, caught in a tropical downpour, seeking shelter among the tentacled trunks of a massive banyan tree.  As balmy drops find warmth-starved bare arms and legs, coax us back into the open, we allow ourselves to be anointed.  And talk about paradise.

 

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