Kimo and I advanced cautiously up the hill. When we reached spots where the old man had difficulty, I, as Gabe had done for me, stopped to give my new friend a hand.
When we reached places where I had difficulty making progress, we stopped. And when we did, we took great care to position ourselves in such a way as to best spot the black cat if it were coming our way.
At one point, we stopped amid a small stand of scrubby trees. My guess was stunted wiliwili, but we weren’t near any ocean, so I couldn’t be sure. Hunkering down, we sat back to back so as to see in all directions as best as possible.
“I wish we had some water,” I said. “I can do without food, but water, it’s essential.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Kimo. “I have faith that what we need, we’ll find in time.”
He sounded much healthier already. In fact, outside that cave, there was still little light at this altitude, so maybe it was my feverish imagination.
And just like that, as if Kimo had magically made it appear, I heard water running somewhere in the near distance.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
“What?”
“Water. It sounds like a stream.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Your ears are younger than mine. If you say you hear it, then let’s go find it.”
Getting up and scanning the area carefully, we proceeded in the direction where I believed the stream was running. And sure enough, after 15 minutes or so, we came upon a stream.
“You drink first,” said Kimo, “while I keep watch.”
I went belly down on the bank and scooped up water with both hands. When I’d had my fill, I stood and Kimo lay down for his turn.
“Now what is that?” I said, hearing something else.
Kimo, wiping his mouth, sat up. “Now that sound I hear,” he said. “Is it a waterfall?”
“I hope so,” I said. “That low roar, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the cat, but let’s check it out.”
Again, proceeding with utmost caution, we headed toward the sound, I in the lead. It struck me as so over the hill-ish that if it were the cat, we were choosing to walk right into disaster. Like oblivious oldsters.
Talk about problems with middle age. I couldn’t speak for Kimo. He was what would conventionally be taken for old, I’m sure. Which isn’t to say that all old people are addle-brained and walk head-on into potentially dangerous situations without worrying about them.
I think he trusted my instinct. But as someone who saw himself on the cusp of joining with the kupuna-aged seniors, I thought myself teetering on the brink of age-related lesser danger awareness.
The way my grandparents and then my parents slipped and fell more as they aged, or tried to do things that caused them physical harm. It was concerning.
Well, middle age had me not only in those midlife crisis doldrums, but it also shifted me into hyperawareness not of danger, but of my losing my sense of what was dangerous.
And then I saw her. Sitting on a boulder, the waterfall misting the air around her. Amid the swirling air, she shone like a beacon in the surrounding gloom.
I have encountered only very a few women who’ve literally taken my breath away. This was such a woman.
Kimo had noticed her as well. “Yeah,” he said. “And check out the gams on that babe.”
I had to smile. His observation presented an odd juxtaposition. There was a throwback to the term ‘gams’ for legs being an indicator of his advanced age side-by-side with what sounded like instant attraction to a female blurted out by a teenager on the prowl.
“Hey, Kimo,” I said. “Wow. Listen to her.”
He cocked his ear in her direction. “Is that singing?” he asked.
It was indeed singing. “Yes,” I said. “What a beautiful voice.”
“Do you understand what she’s singing?”
“I do, Kimo. It’s a 1970s’ hit called ‘Reminiscing’ by The Little River Band.”
“Little river,” Kimo said, chuckling. “And here she is by this little river.”
The coincidence wasn’t lost upon me. “Yes,” I said, suddenly waxing nostalgic. “I used to work in a record store in Madison, Wisconsin back in the 70s. That song came out then. A woman in the record store used to sing along with it when it played. She, too, had a wonderful voice. And when she’d sing the part about a time, many years down the line, when she would be old and reminiscing with the love of her life, I used to picture that person maybe being me.”
I noticed Kimo staring at me mouth agape. “Wow, Lanning, you traveled back to that time just now. You loved her, huh?”
“Yes. Yes I did. I think that’s one of the reasons I was down in the valley.”
“Lanning, I’m sorry you didn’t end up being that person she’d reminisce with.”
“Thanks, Kimo,” I shook my head. “But nah, it wasn’t meant to be I guess.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“Yes. She does aerospace work. Military stuff, I think. Lives in New Mexico, I think.”
“Do you touch base with her?”
“No. She’s got her life. And I’ve got mine, for whatever that’s worth. And never the twain shall meet.”
We stopped talking and listened to the woman sing. It was mesmerizing. Reminiscing. That coincidence wasn’t lost on me either
Kimo said, “Lanning, I gotta feeling we better keep going up. This seems like it could be dangerous. Like she’s some kind of bait.”
So he hadn’t lost his ability to sense danger. Or maybe he was getting it back. He did look younger.
And just as he said that the woman caught sight of us and stopped singing. Waving to us, she called out, “Help! Please, try help me!
Lanning Lee 