{"id":784,"date":"2012-08-04T01:18:49","date_gmt":"2012-08-04T05:18:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/?p=784"},"modified":"2014-11-16T20:27:42","modified_gmt":"2014-11-17T01:27:42","slug":"lennie-i-the-story-of-us-chapter-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/?p=784","title":{"rendered":"LENNIE & I – THE STORY OF US – Chapter 4"},"content":{"rendered":"

It was eleven a.m. in the morning in Vancouver. \u00a0I could feel the panic rising in me as I dialed Lennie’s number. \u00a0Vancouver International airport was huge<\/em>; bigger than anything I had imagined. \u00a0Because I was still in Canada, I was told that I had to pick up my luggage and go through customs before getting on the next plane that would take me to Honolulu. \u00a0But, where was my luggage? \u00a0How was I supposed to find it in this enormous airport. \u00a0It was eight o’clock in the morning in Hawai’i and I heard Lennie’s voice answer, “Hey Baby. \u00a0You did it. \u00a0You’re making it happen!”<\/p>\n

“I don’t know what to do or where to go. \u00a0They said I have to pick up my luggage and go through customs.” \u00a0I could feel pain behind my eyes as if I was a lost child. \u00a0“Okay”, said Lennie, “Look around you for signs that say ‘Baggage’.” \u00a0“There’s nothing here and there’s different levels – I don’t know where to go!” \u00a0Despite his help, I didn’t have a clue where to go and just started randomly asking anyone that was in a uniform. \u00a0A flight attendant directed me to an information booth and they told me that I would have to go to the next level to claim my bags and then re-enter security and go through customs.<\/p>\n

I was more calm now that I had found my luggage and Lennie said, “How long a layover do you have?” \u00a0My flight doesn’t leave for 6 hours. \u00a0It had been 7, but I had used up an hour looking for my luggage. \u00a0He spent the next few minutes trying to talk me into leaving the airport and taking in some of the sights in Vancouver. \u00a0I assured him that I was absolutely not leaving the airport. \u00a0It was bad enough that it was under construction for the upcoming Olympics and there were detour signs and arrows and plastic-covered scaffolding, but I sure wasn’t going to go exploring by myself in a strange city, dragging around my luggage. \u00a0So I wandered. \u00a0I went through customs and just plunked myself down in a waiting area and waited. \u00a0Occasionally I drifted off to sleep for a few minutes at a time and got up to get something to eat and drink. \u00a0Finally it was six o’clock in the evening and I was boarding the last leg of the flight – a seven hour flight over the pacific to Honolulu to meet Lennie in person for the very first time.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The flight was uneventful and long. \u00a0I became the Queen of “Are we there yet?” \u00a0I\u00a0was flying on WestJet and it was a night flight. \u00a0I was thankful that there was a movie even if it was “Twilight”. \u00a0Finally the captain come on to announce that we were approaching Honolulu and were flying over the other Islands. \u00a0I looked out the window and through the darkness could see the sparkling lights that outlined the strip of Waikiki, stretching up along the coast to Pearl Harbor and the airport that we were descending upon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As I stepped off the plane I remembered Lennie’s words: \u00a0“Stop and breathe in the air; there is nothing else like it. \u00a0The air here in Hawai’i has more oxygen in it.” \u00a0This was true as I breathed in the warm, moist air. \u00a0It was as if my lungs were expanding more fully than they were ever able to before. \u00a0I walked across the breezeway with its open sides, overlooking palm trees and a small pond. \u00a0The airport was small with just a few\u00a0carousels for luggage. \u00a0I had changed into a summer dress in the tiny head on the plane and now had my luggage in tow. \u00a0Where was Lennie? \u00a0I was crouching on the floor, digging through my purse for my phone when I heard a familiar voice behind me say, “Are you looking for me?”<\/p>\n

“Yes”, I replied as I stood up, turning around and staring into his handsome, smiling face. \u00a0He was wearing the parrot shirt that he had worn in the photo that he had sent to me. \u00a0I had asked him to wear it and it was to become one of my favorite shirts on him and later, one of my most cherished belongings. \u00a0We walked out of the airport, hand in hand to his old Dodge Ram that I had asked him to pick me up in. \u00a0As I had explained to him, it had a bench seat and we could sit next to each other.<\/p>\n

We drove out of the airport and into the night as we traveled inland to get to the Windward side of O’ahu. \u00a0Tunnels that were illuminated broke through the darkness as we cruised through the mountains and along the winding Pali Highway. \u00a0 The majority of the trip was in darkness so I couldn’t see the beauty that was Hawai’i. \u00a0We passed stretches of ocean with lights dotted all over, showing glimpses of where towns and forests and marshes were. \u00a0Finally we were on Mokapu Saddle Road and turning onto the street in Kailua that was to become my home.<\/p>\n

The house was in darkness when we arrived and Lennie lifted my luggage out of the back of the truck with ease and carried it into the house. \u00a0I walked behind him and stood, waiting for him to turn on the lights when he came right back outside to me. \u00a0He picked me up in his arms and carried me over the threshold as if I was his new bride. \u00a0He put me down and I stood in the middle of the living room while Lennie turned on the lights and I got my first glimpse of the house. \u00a0There was a lot of stuff and some mix and match furniture. \u00a0“Wait right here”, he instructed me as he walked into another room and closed the door behind him. \u00a0A few minutes later he opened the door with a smile on his face and the candlelight shining in moist eyes. \u00a0“Welcome to your new home, Kathryn.” \u00a0There were candles all over the master bedroom with a homemade sign on the bed, welcoming me. \u00a0He took me in his arms and kissed me passionately as he pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot. \u00a0The room and the night enveloped us as if we had been parted for a very long time and had finally found our way back to each other over the years and perhaps other lifetimes. \u00a0Finally, we had found each other.<\/p>\n

Kathryn<\/em><\/p>\n

www.kathrynsmith.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It was eleven a.m. in the morning in Vancouver. \u00a0I could feel the panic rising in me as I dialed Lennie’s number. \u00a0Vancouver International airport was huge; bigger than anything I had imagined. \u00a0Because I was still in Canada, I was told that I had to pick up my luggage and go through customs before […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-784","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-lennie-and-kathryn"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/784","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=784"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/784\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":949,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/784\/revisions\/949"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=784"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=784"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hamiltonartist.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=784"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}