Redemption

Into our heavy shame wedges truth,
sharp, an accusing guilt that can move us
nowhere, cannot carry us back in time
to change this truth that we were cowards
who did not dare to –

I lower Broder to my lap and stare out the window. I’ve turned off my engine to conserve my battery, the sun is pouring down on me, and I think about starting up the car to get the air going. A drop of sweat trickles down my neck, and I wonder why I’m reading something so heavy on a light, bright day.

It’s true, we can’t go back to change anything we did, and if we are ashamed of something we did, or in Broder’s case didn’t do, then there is nothing we can do to change that.

I suppose he’s going to go on to make the point that we have to do something from this point on to make amends. Do I want to know that’s what he’s going to write about since I already know what it’s all going to be about?

Two surfers come from the beach, and they take turns placing their boards in the back of their black Nissan pick-up. Finally, a parking space. Too many people going to the beach nowadays, and parking sucks. Broder would never write a poem about tricks for finding parking at Ala Moana Beach Park.

But instead of getting in the truck and driving off, the two head in the direction of the L&L concession stand. Darn it. Why can’t they go to some other L&L, get in their car and drive?

The sweat rolls down my cheeks and my neck. I push Broder away on the passenger seat, pissed about the surfers, the parking, and too many people.

And just like that, three kids come running along among the parked cars and grab the two boards.

I’m not quite sure I’m seeing this. Through my windshield, it seems like this could be a TV show. And just like that, they’re gone. And scene.

I sit there, mad at the surfers who won’t give me their parking space, and sorry for them because their boards have been stolen.

It’s too late now to get out and yell at the kids to stop, and I’m too old to run after them. I could drive after them, I suppose, but what if I catch up with them? What am I going to do, make a citizen’s arrest? Herd them like cats?

The whole event leaves me stupefied, and the sweat pours down around me like rain. I spot the two surfers coming back with cold drinks. They shout surprise at not seeing their boards. Stopping to look around them, it’s as if they think whoever stole the boards would be stupid enough to hang around within striking range.

Argh. They spot me. Now I wish my windows were rolled up, the engine running, so I could drive off. But I think too much, and they’re calling out to me and walking over.

“Eh, Uncle, you were here when whoever took our boards?”

I look up at them, spend too much time thinking about my answer.

“Uncle,” the other one says, “you saw the guys?”

“Ah, guys? Sorry, what happened?”

“Someone stole our boards, Uncle. You was here when it happened?”

“Oh, no, sorry, guys. I didn’t see anything. I just got here. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay, thanks, Uncle.”

The two turn and walk back to their truck. I start up my car and drive off, looking for another parking space somewhere not there. And then, near Magic Island, I spot the kids with the stolen boards sitting on the curb holding cold drinks.

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Listen to “Redemption”: [audio https://lanninglee.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/audio-post-2023-05-29-20-52-17.mp3|titles=Audio Post