The Mountains

by Pearlene Woolcock (United States of America)

Making a local connection USA

The Mountains I walked to the entrance of the Daniel K. Inouye International Airport and requested an Uber to my hotel in the city. A dark cloud was looming over me and I didn’t know why. A ‘Mama June’ in a lime green, Jeep Renegade was my driver. We greeted each other while we loaded my suitcase into her small trunk and eased into conversation. My eyes scanned the expanse of the far mountains and how they opposed the city’s skyscrapers on our journey. There was a brief but obvious pause that pulled me back from my reverie. “Sorry, what was that?” I asked intently. “I was asking if you’re here for any special occasion? Is it your first time?” I caught her eyes in her rearview mirror and hesitated. “Um, yes it’s my first time but no, I’m not here for any special reason. I wanted to take a trip and Hawaii seemed right.” What a pathetic response! I thought. Who randomly travels to Hawaii? I sighed and stared out of the window again. The traffic flowed but in a manic way. Soon we were downtown, and I saw a side of Honolulu that wouldn’t frequent the big screens. The stoplights and other buildings were in need of major upgrades. Mama June chimed in suddenly. “Do you have any exciting plans? Hiking or diving, maybe?” “I hope to check out some water sports and enjoy the food. I’d love to get some souvenirs as well. I’m not very much into hiking.” Mama June returned my smile as she switched lanes effortlessly. “I used to hike a lot when I was younger,” she said. I noticed that the light in her eyes went out at that moment. “Really?” I asked. “Do you still hike occasionally?” “No,” she replied. “If we run into each other again, I’ll tell you why.” Unlikely, I thought but it would be rude to press her story. “Sounds good.” “Here you are. The Ala Moana Hotel.” I heaved my suitcase from her trunk as I positioned for the lobby. “Thank you,” I offered. “Enjoy your trip!” I smiled and nodded at her as I made my way inside the hotel. Perched on my room’s balcony, the sun kissed my skin and the tears flowed. Being an empath had its disadvantages. Something was wrong. Glancing around the hotel’s lobby, I found the adventure & tour agent. We spoke about various activities I could participate in and when they were available. She asked for my ID and credit card to complete the bookings. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “Tomorrow’s your birthday. Happy Birthday!” I smiled nervously. “Thank you.” I emotionally folded into myself. On my birthday, I rented a car and drove along the coast to the North shore. I pulled into a park that had scenic views. To my left were the mountains that rose like an inverted curtain and stood giantlike as if they were an army protecting all that was lower than them. The view humbled me, and I briefly thought of Mama June. The next day after dinner, I proceeded to the front desk to check out of the hotel. While the agent printed my receipt, I requested an Uber. Eerily to my surprise, my driver was once again Mama June. She arrived in five minutes and we headed for the airport. I told her about my parasailing experience and the dinner cruise I went on as I mentally said goodbye to the beautiful island. She eased into the drop-off lane and opened the trunk. I instantly remembered what she said to me when we first met. She met me at the rear of the vehicle. “You said if we saw each other again, you’d tell me why you no longer hike.” She grabbed my suitcase. “Yes. My daughter died tragically in a helicopter tour incident 15 years ago. They crashed into the mountains. The anniversary of her death was yesterday.” She came closer to me and gave me a motherly hug. “Happy belated birthday by the way,” she whispered in my ear. “Have a safe flight home.” Eyes the size of tennis balls watched her as she drove away. That dark cloud finally disappeared.