The Descendant of a Lioness

Haole kou lined the sidewalk. Each step shaded, with an occasional beam of sunlight piercing through the branches. I sat there on the bench, book in hand. Leaves gently rustled in the kona breeze. I inhaled, relishing this serene moment. Anticipating what would unfold in Chapter 35, I opened the book. I read about Homa being preyed upon by the sergeant. My chest tightened. There she was, confined by cement. Her screams, unheard by anyone who could help. Before this moment, she had dreams of becoming a judge.

I thought of my mother. Then of my mother’s mother. I pictured them clearly—these mana wahine, or as Homa would have said, the shizar, the lionesses before us.

Then a sudden buzz from my alarm brought me back to the bench, surrounded by townhomes and an empty playground. I looked at my watch, in disbelief at how much time had passed. Reluctant, my left hand glided over the cover and brought the book to a close. Standing up, I turned toward the sun, its warmth quickly infusing my skin. I inhaled again, eyes closed. The stone walkway back to the office had a slight grey glimmer. Approaching Mariner’s Way I found myself taking a second glance. There was a lioness statue on the staircase leading to 4133B. I raised my hands in a prayer motion to my face.

© 2026 Keola