There is something about the simplicity of Room 2 at the Pakalana Inn. Maybe its the ocean breezes fluttering the window shade. An invitation to reflect. The muted surfaces soothe the travel or world weary soul. The clutterless golden tan woodwork has a rubbed glow. It's the corner room. Out one window is the Farmer's Market. And the Ocean and Hilo Bayfront beckon from the other. A tropical place, with the pulsations of village activity about you. People going about their little lives, in little Hilo, on a little Island, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
But not you.
You are in Room 2. And in your blessed solitude, you stretch out with a new book, a pulitzer prize winner you always wanted to read, slightly used. The paper smells like those stacks in the University library in Seattle you used to love. Nice.
You found the book, a romance, after a midafternoon capucino at that funky hippie coffeeshop just around the corner from the Pakalana Inn. Down another street, the fresh trade winds blowing back your hair you ventured into the clean woody bookshelves of a San Franciso style transplant - used book store - art gallery. So many nooks! So many lovely little caves of books! The quiet as you immerse yourself in books is a respite. You flutter pages undisturbed, peering into the doors of imagination, places and pictures and words. Someone brushes past you - with a start you wonder if it was someone you once knew - his sunbleached hair now frosted with grey falling in springy coils down his back. But no, apparently just another surfer/closet intelligencia hiding in Hilo.
Still the way he whispered "Excuse me" as he passed . . . .
Now with the richness of your books nestled in your new handwoven lahala basket purse, you are at peace in Room 2 of the Pakalana Inn.
No comments:
Post a Comment