
We'd barely begun the hike to Maui's Waimoku Falls, and already Morgan, my 20-year-old son, seemed as if he might ruin it.
He strode ahead on the trail, keeping 10 feet away from my husband, Greg, and me. “Come on—this is what you wanted to do,” he said, widening the distance between us.
So much for family togetherness.
I had made no secret that for my fiftieth-birthday trip to Maui—dubbed Hawaii 5-0 by Greg—the crown jewel of the itinerary would be hiking the Pipiwai Trail to the falls. We'd already driven the Road to Hana, famous for its more than 600 hairpin turns, to get here. All part of the experience. For the past week, it had been the only thing I could talk about.
We'd woken this morning to a forecast of heavy rains. “Let's hurry,” I said. “I'm not missing this!”
Silently, I prayed. Lord, let us get to the falls before the rain comes. And keep my right knee from acting up. Oh, and if it's not too much, help this be a way to connect with Morgan.
At least I was still hopeful about my surgically repaired knee holding up and the rain holding off.
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