I’m just returning from a month in Waikiki and am grateful I experienced a wet, windy week of the Kona Low. The brief time I spent in the exhilarating winds and fickle but powerful downpours was wondrous and exciting! I’d never seen a storm with such odd characteristics. It was as if a hurricane was struggling to form but just couldn’t get its act together. Its wind direction was all willy-nilly, with velocities wavering between an enjoyable breeze and an umbrella-inverting gale that leveled gigantic trees and raked across structures, tearing off shutters, awnings, and pieces of wood—anything not securely attached.
Waikiki, Hawaii
But the most intriguing facet of the Kona Low was the flooding. Oahu, after all, is simply an old volcano that managed to keep its head above water. As such, it offers very little absorption, which leads to optimal flood conditions. On top of that was the brown water flooding, which occurs in Waikiki when there is excessive rainfall. It’s basically polluted water that ends up leaching into the ocean and infecting the beachfront.
Please don’t think I have taken lightly the devastation that occurred in Oahu after I returned to Florida. A Major Disaster Declaration for Hawaii was approved on April 8th, 2026. Such a declaration is not easily delivered. It requires an incident that brings widespread damage, injury, death, and loss of property at such a level that local and state governments can’t manage without the aid of physical and monetary support. So yes, this weather event was serious.
The silver lining in that swirl of somber clouds, for me, was that I was prevented from journeying outdoors for several days in a row. This serendipitous entrapment forced me to sit, be still, observe… and somehow during those days of solitude, I developed an itch. Not the kind of itch that blossoms into a rash or some other repulsive skin disorder. Nor was it a visible itch. There appeared no red, swollen lump or inflamed, splotchy patches or offensive clusters of ugly pimples. That was not the nature of this tickle.
Instead, it was an overwhelming urge to write—to dare to splatter my laptop screen with beautifully positioned letters, like Scrabble tiles, creating a symphony of words flowing into one another and forming sentences. Two drought-stricken years had slithered by, and I had not produced even the slightest trickle of a written word. I thought I had lost interest in the most precious creative outlet of my life.
But a Kona Low saved me… who knew???
Thanks for Reading!! – Lisa Larsen
CHECK OUT MY BOOK – THREE QUARTERS DEAD BY LISA LARSEN
