Besides being a wondeful vacation, that trip holds wonderful memories and meaning. We spent the days doing what you do in Hawai'i: snorkel, visit the beach, admire the waterfalls, and swim in the pool. Adam wasn't too keen of the ocean. The fish swimming around our legs weren't exactly his cup of tea. He loved the sand though. And he looked so cute in his little aloha shirts.
He was just learning to walk on that trip. I know, seven-months-old and walking. He'd walk laps around the coffee table in our condo and waddle along the rattan sofa. And he had the most adorable t-shirt and shorts pajama set. I think I even saved it.
Since we were there over Thanksgiving, we spent one day watching the Christmas parade where Santa rides into Hawai'i. Of course, I cried. I mean are you surprised? It was a Christmas parade in Hawai'i? Hello? Total tear-jerker.
And Adam "met" Santa for the first time on that trip. I'll tell you what, I'm pretty sure that man WAS the REAL Santa. He was about 5'6" with a belly full of jelly and a real, fluffy white beard. And he was so jovial and kind. When we walked up to the photo area, he came over and said, "OK, here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to sit down. You're going to place him in my arms and back away. You're not going to say a thing. Just keep looking at him and she'll snap his picture before he even realizes I'm holding him. There won't be any tears or anything."
And what do you know? We followed his instructions and captured the most adorable first Santa picture in the world. I think one of us commented on this and he laughed (yes his belly shook) and said, "I've done it a million times." And somehow that didn't seem like an exaggeration.
(when I dig out Adam's memory box, I will post the picture)
But, Santa wasn't the only important person Adam met on that trip. There was also Mr. Figueroa. (I'm going to try not to cry while I type this)
We'd gone to a little greasy-spoon diner in Kapa'a for breakfast with my parents and I had the most delicious macadamia nut pancakes in the world. At the table behind us was a couple of middle-aged Hawaiian men having coffee. Adam was particularly jovial and charismatic that morning. (that means he was more interested in entertaining everyone than he was in eating) And for whatever reason he and the men behind him really hit it off.
Towards the end of our meal, the man wearing a dingy blue baseball cap introduced himself as Mr. Figueroa. Adam sat in his lap and we visited with this nice man for a little while. He shared bits and pieces of his life on Hawai'i and talked story with my dad.
Then he gave Adam back to us and said, "I'm going to tell you your Hawaiian name, Adam. You are called Keli'i."
I must have said something like "I thought his name was Atamu" because Mr. Figueroa smiled and said, "Keli'i means little chief. And that's what you are."
Scott, my parents and I all laughed when he said this. In just a few minutes, he'd figured out our little man. Our little chief.
Scott said to him, "Wow, you know him well!" And Mr. Figueroa just smiled and nodded.
Mahalo nui loa Mr. Figueroa for the memory. Adam is Keli'i of our hearts.
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