Chapter 1

Jim never expected to find himself in Hawaii until after he retired. The visit would have served as a nice send off to a life long lived. He had always been fond of Hawaii, styling his attire with Hawaiian shirts since High School. He wrote Hawaii down on his bucket list decades ago. But his search brought his life plans ahead of schedule. The address he was told brought him to a quaint bar in a small town right off the coast. The bar lacked windows, instead surrounded by wooden cylindrical poles attached to the cement ground supporting the roof. He had a clear view of the entire bar, despite it being more crowded than some of the bars he was familiar with at home in the city. The whole town must be here, Jim thought. He walked in and headed straight for the bartender, completely ignoring all the patrons as he focused entirely on his search for some answers. But he found no bartender behind the counter. Instead, he saw a banner hanging above the bar. "Ke Kukui E lana ana Hula!" It read.

While waiting, he looked around at all the cultural decorations. Despite not understanding their contexts and meanings, he found pleasure in the aesthetics. One particular artifact, a feathered sculpture of a unique-looking creature, grabbed his attention. Exhibited on a small pole, its obscure appearance resembled something that looked almost like a human head, but with dog-like teeth. While looking at this intriguing art piece, the bartender returned.

"Aloha! Sorry, I just had a phone call I couldn't ignore. What'll it be?" she asked.

Jim turned back around toward the counter, shifting his focus onto the blonde bartender. He often did not look at whoever he talked to, but he wanted to make a good first impression. He waved his hand at her question. "I'm not here for a drink. I'm looking for someone."

She smiled. "Well luckily for you, in these parts most everyone knows everyone. What's the name?"

"Evelyn Collins."

"One second," she replied before walking over to another patron at the counter and recording his order. She returned momentarily later. "Evelyn Collins. Doesn't a ring bell. Are you sure you'll find her here?"

Jim shrugged. He reached for something in his bag. "She would have moved here recently. I found this letter after she left. It led me here."

The bartender briefly glanced at the envelope before leaving again to once more tend to her other guests. Jim briefly glanced around the bar again, noticing for the first time that the people weren't just huddled around tables drinking, but also writing on small white paper bags. Curiosity distracted him from noticing the bartender returning.

"This girl must be special if you traveled all this way for her."

Jim kept his eyes on the gatherings and the paper bags as he answered. "I've known her since we were kids. We grew up just across the street from each other."

"Well I hope you find her."

He turned to the bartender. "Thank you. And perhaps a drink would be nice after all. I think I'm going to stick around for a bit. Just pour me whatever you recommend."

The bartender smiled. "Certainly." The bartender retreated to the back room, only to return moments later with frozen pineapple. She stuffed the pineapple into a blender along with dark and white rum, cream, juice and ice. "Something simple, yet perfect for a day like this. On the house."

"A Piña Colada? You have no idea how happy that makes me."

The bartender smiled. "Really? Why's that?"

"That is one of my favorite songs."

She laughed. "It's a good song."

"Thanks." As Jim sipped his drink, the bartender dashed off to help again another patron. Not yet ready to finish the conversation, Jim caught her as she passed, "Excuse me. What's going on here?"

"Oh, it's the annual Floating Lanterns Festival."

"Like the one in Honolulu?"

She froze, eyes widening. "You've heard of it? Impressive." She gave a slight pause before continuing. ���Yes, similar to the one in Honolulu. But this town likes to have their own festival for themselves. We believe it strengthens the bond of the community, a bond which we highly value. Every year the community gathers in this bar to prepare for the ceremony. Other cultures and communities share similar traditions, but the festival is celebrated uniquely in this town. They write short messages to lost loved ones on paper bags, which they will float into the river tonight. But everyone reads their message aloud before giving it to the river, strengthening their bonds. Everyone knows everything about everyone here. It's quite an extraordinary experience I'm told."

Jim looked at her curiously. "You've never been to the ceremony before?"

"Oh no. I've only been here for a few months myself. But I've grown very close to the people here already." She grinned at him. "I have an idea. If you are staying in town for awhile, why don't we go to the ceremony together?"

It didn't take Jim long to answer. Though his priority remained locating Evelyn, he saw the benefit of allowing himself time to indulge in the communal traditions. After all, if anyone did know where Evelyn was, they would certainly feel more inclined to assist Jim if he showed his appreciation to their practices. Besides, foreign cultures had always intrigued him. Now he had the opportunity to experienced some. "I'd love to."

"Great! And maybe you can tell me about this girl of yours." She smiled at him. "Ceremony will be around 10. I'm done at 9. See you back here then?"

Jim nearly nodded, instead smiling back at her for the first time. She retreated to the

back room, leaving Jim to continue his navigation of the bar. Evelyn would have loved to live in a place like this. She always urged me to help grow and support small communities. "Mahalo." Jim raised his glass to the bartender, then turned around to find a seat at a table and write his own message on a paper bag. "Seat taken?"

The patron next to him, a middle-aged, heavy weight man, shook his head. He shifted his seat to make room for Jim. "You new here?"

"Just visiting." Jim offered his hand. "I'm Jim."

"Keoni," the patron replied, "and Aloha. I hope you enjoy your stay.

Jim found a pile of bags already piled in the center of the table, along with pens and pencils. "Can I have one of those?" Jim asked Keoni, pointing to the pile.

Keoni chuckled. "Of course! That's what they are there for." Keoni reached over and grabbed the materials, passing them to Jim. "Who did you lose? Wife?"

Jim grabbed the materials from Keoni, not making eye contact, nor offering his thanks. His already distracted mind had began fixating on what message to write. "An old friend." He answered the question as he wrote For Evelyn on the bag.

Though Evelyn wasn't a lost loved one in the dead sense, she almost was, and the nature of their separation had certainly felt like death. He felt the need to address her all the same. To finally take the opportunity to tell someone, or something, how he felt about the whole situation. And hopefully, as he thought about what to write, and in turn reminisce about all the moments he had shared with her, finally set him free from his grief.