Lost People and Sunblock

Red hibiscus are appearing like fireworks on green hedges. Each day brings more flowers.

We are of the fortunate few to witness the beauty.

"Kauai is closed," said Mayor Derek Kawakami.

Heavy restrictions are being enforced. Yesterday a visitor was arrested and fined for leaving his hotel room. This was big news, reported by local and Honolulu-based news sources.

The mayor says tourists must stay put for 14-days, no roaming around, even on resort grounds. The few resorts on the north shore are shut: the Princeville Resort (formerly The Regis) and the Westin.

Those traveling inter-island are quarantined.

Those of us who are sheltering here, jump at the opportunity to walk when the sun appears. It's wise to bring an umbrella, or be ready to get soaked.

Two days ago, we seized the opportunity. I unzipped by backpack and grabbed my compact-sized can of sun block, unscrewed the lid and dipped my finger into the paste. I rubbed the white stuff, mostly zinc, onto my face, dressed to Marcel Marceau fashion.

Off we flew into the greater green garden.

That evening, long after my 3-mile walk, Barbara said, "You've got white all over your face."

"I want to be protected," I said. I added that I only use the reef-friendly sunblock. Besides, that's all I brought, no cream.

The following day when the sun appeared. I couldn't find my sunblock. I searched EVERYWHERE!

My backpack. All drawers, toilet bag, pockets, shelves, under pillows, beds and couches. Nada. So secondary search measures required: empty and shake out backpack, pants, curtains, towels. Look in every cupboard, cranny and cubby hole. Check under rug. We don't have rug. Nada.

Relax. Recall every step taken last time I used said sunblock in flat tin-can with screw-on lid. Go over every move and thought. Think about what I was thinking about. Nada.

Today is another day. Sun is out. I'm confident my sunblock will show up, too. Maybe with golf ball.