Memory 2 week 2

After an alcohol free nine hour flight with only chicken parmesan, a deck of cards, and Fight Club to lift my spirits I arrived in Honolulu. My Dad, for the remainder of the trip Chief Ray, met me at the end of the off ramp with a lei of tea tree leaves and kukui nut shells. The ride to his barrack, a single room with adjoining bath and small fridge reached through a kitchen shared by two other Chiefs, made my eyes water from not wanting to blink and miss a cove integral to a story and my skin burn while it got used to the sun pouring into the convertible Chrysler Seabring. The most shocking sight was the bouquet of fresh lilies placed on the kitchen table with a single branch of torch ginger rising from the center the size of my forearm and looking like the head of a bloodied spear. This was a tradition, my father explained, that reminded him when he would be staying in a room long enough to unpack. Dinner was a simple meal of shoyu steak and fruit salad, the strawberry guava and mangos I would later learn to find on the mountains and carry back in canvas sacks tied to our packs, all tinged with the sweet smell of ginger.