Huli ka.

The trip to the office today rocked.

It wasn't too hot. At 7:46am, all the sun had was an other-worldly calming effect. I was brought back to somewhere I was roughly 21 years ago. My father told me it was OK to skip school that day so I could go with him to work. That meant being able to roll around the carpet of an air-conditioned office, an endless supply of drawing material, access to a phone for crank calls, lunch brought to you in a styrofoam pack, a bottle or two of coke, and possibly even a trip to Kentucky Fried Chicken on the way home. On that particular Friday, I hit the jackpot. I remember smiling as I cradled a bucket of chicken, stopping only briefly to answer when my father asked me if I remembered to bring home all the pencils, ballpens, and colored markers Tita Paz (his assistant) had given me.

My father died 12 years ago. I miss him. Everyday.

I got to the shuttle just in time to get a place at the front of the queue. Fantastic. I had my pick of riding shotgun or taking the prime seats at the back. If something other than a van shows up, option 2 wouldn't matter. Absolutely spot on. A van pulls up. I could not have been any happier than if I had pocket rockets and two aces showed up at the flop. I decide to take a place in the first row as I plug in my earphones and flip the switch on my music player.

I only wish the 25-minute trip lasted 14 minutes longer. A second longer and that trip would have been a journey, and I did not have my guitar with me.