Scenario:My name is Jodio, this is the story of how I became man, and became rich in sub-tropical islands of Hawaii at just 15 years old.
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My name is Jodio, this is the story of how I became man, and became rich in sub-tropical islands of Hawaii at just 15 years old.
I was a little boy when my parents died.
I remember the day it happened, but I don’t remember much about them.
I know they loved me, and I loved them, but I was so young that my memories of them are hazy.
I remember the way my mother’s hair smelled, and the way my father’s beard felt against my cheek when he kissed me goodnight.
But I don’t remember their faces, or their voices, or what it felt like to be held in their arms.
I don’t remember what it was like to have a family.
After they died, I went to live with Mr.
Kamehameha in Hawaii.
He was a friend of my parents, and he took care of me until I was old enough to take care of myself.
He was an old man with a kind face and white hair that stuck out in all directions like a dandelion gone to seed.
He had a gentle voice and wise eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
He told me stories about my parents and the adventures they’d had together, and he taught me how to read.
He said he wanted me to have a good education, so I could grow up to be whatever I wanted to be.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be, but I was glad he cared enough to think it out for me.
I was born in New York City, and until I was three years old, I lived in an apartment there with my parents.
They were both professors, and they worked at the same university.
They loved living in the city, but they worried that I wouldn’t have enough room to run around and play, so they decided to move somewhere with a little more space.
We spent the next two years traveling all over the United States.
We lived in the mountains and the desert, and in small towns where everyone knew each other’s name.
I liked seeing all of the different places, and I didn’t mind moving around, but I never really felt like I belonged anywhere until we moved to Hawaii.
We landed on the Big Island, and it felt like home to me from the very beginning.
I spent my days playing on the beach, swimming in the ocean, and exploring the island with my parents.
They both loved being outdoors, and they taught me how to surf, snorkel, and hike up mountains.
I loved everything about Hawaii—the beaches, the waterfalls, and the tropical flowers that filled the air with their sweet scent.
Most of all, I loved how happy it made my parents to live there.
They smiled all of the time, and they laughed more than I’d ever heard them laugh before.
One day they told me that we were going to stay in Hawaii for a while, and that we were going to have lots of adventures there together.
I couldn’t wait to see what we were going to do next.
But I never got the chance.
A few months later, my parents were in a terrible car accident, and they died on impact.
The day after their funeral, I went back to Hawaii with Mr.
I missed my parents terribly at first, but as time went on, their deaths seemed to be something that happened a long time ago—something that happened to other people—and my memories of them faded away.
It was hard at first, learning how to live without them.
But Mr.Kamehameha helped me through it.
He loved me like his own son, and he took care of me when I needed someone to take care of me the most.
He made sure I had everything I needed, and he kept me safe and warm during those first few weeks after my parents died when I was so lost and so alone.
The ocean was a comfort to me during that time as well.
I spent hours playing on the beach or floating in the water, staring out at the horizon as the sun set over the waves in a riot of pinks and oranges and purples.
The sound of the surf was soothing, like a lullaby that helped me get through those dark days when my grief threatened to swallow me whole.
The ocean was a comfort to me during that time as well.
Mr.Kamehameha was there with me throughout those difficult first days after my parents died, and he treated me like his own grandson, even though we were not related at all.
He had known my parents for many years, and they were very close friends, so it had been an easy decision for him to take me in when they died, even though he was already in his seventies by then, and Mrs.Kamehameha was in her sixties, and they had a grown daughter who had children of her own.
When we arrived in Hawaii, they welcomed me into their home with open arms, and from the very first day, they treated me like their own child, telling me over and over again how much they loved me and how happy they were that I was there with them on the island where they’d been born and raised.
They made me feel like a part of the family, even though they hardly knew me yet, while at the same time giving me all of the space I needed to grieve for the family I’d lost.
It wasn’t long before Mr.Kamehameha started calling me his little Jodio, which made me feel warm all over every time he said it, even though I wasn’t sure what it meant, and Mrs.Kamehameha started calling me her little man, which also made me feel very happy, even though I didn’t know what it meant either.
Later on, she started calling me her little kahuna, which was a title given to a wise man or shaman in ancient Hawaii, which made me feel very important, indeed.
As the months passed, they both grew very fond of me, as I did of them, and we became very close, forming a tight bond that was unbreakable no matter what happened in the future.
Mrs.Kamehameha especially grew very fond of me during this time, doting on me all of the time, cooking for me, cleaning up after me, doing my laundry, and folding it up into neat little piles that made me feel very loved even when she wasn’t around.
She was very pretty with a plump figure and a round face and kind eyes that glittered with warmth and love whenever she looked at me.
And she looked at me a lot.
She was always giving me hugs and kisses and pinching my cheeks and telling me how much she loved me and how glad she was that I was there with them.
Her affection was like a warm blanket that surrounded me and kept me safe from all of the bad things in the world, and I was very grateful to have it in my life at this difficult time.
There were many times when I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn’t been able to go live with the Kamehamehas after my parents died.
I would have been very lonely, for one thing.
I didn’t have any friends or family back in New York City, or anywhere else for that matter.
And I didn’t have any money or any way to take care of myself.
I would have been forced to live on the streets or in an orphanage until I was old enough to get a job and find somewhere to live.
It would have been a very hard way to grow up.
But it didn’t happen.
Instead I went to live with the Kamehamehas in Hawaii, and I grew up surrounded by natural beauty and the nurturing environment they provided for me.
It was everything I needed to get through the most difficult time in my life.
One of the things that made it so easy to go on living after my parents died was the routine that we established in Hawaii, which gave me a sense of normalcy that I hadn’t had in a very long time.
Every day, after I woke up, Mrs.Kamehameha would make me breakfast while Mr.Kamehameha sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.
After breakfast, I would go outside to play while he smoked his pipe on the front porch, reading a book or just looking out at the ocean or the sky.
And I would do this every day without fail, no matter what else happened in the world around us.
It was a testament to the family we had become that we established this routine so quickly, and that we stuck to it no matter what happened in our lives over the years that followed.
Every evening, as the sun was setting, Mr.Kamehameha and I would go fishing for our dinner while Mrs.Kamehameha prepared a feast for us back at home, which we would eat outside when we got back, under the twinkling stars and the soft glow of tiki torches burning on either side of us in the sand.
We would sit down to eat around a big wooden picnic table that was covered with all sorts of different kinds of food, including fish, rice, meat, vegetables, fruit, and bread that Mrs.Kamehameha had made by hand earlier in the day, like she did every day, just for us.
It was very delicious, but I especially liked the fish that Mr.Kamehameha and I had caught ourselves earlier in the evening, which was very fresh and very good.
And there was always plenty for everyone to eat as much as they wanted or needed to get full, which made them both very happy.
I could tell because they were always smiling after dinner as they sat around the campfire that Mr.Kamehameha built for us in the sand outside our house every night, telling stories about their lives when they were young or talking about whatever happened to be on their minds at that time.
Sometimes they told me stories too, which they knew I liked a lot.
And sometimes they sang songs and played instruments for me afterwards.
Mrs.Kamehameha played a ukulele that she had bought for herself at a local store one time because she thought it was very pretty and she wanted to learn how to play it.
And she was very good at it.
She had a beautiful voice that was very soft and sweet and angelic when she sang, and it filled me with warmth and love whenever she did it.
I liked it so much that she played for me every night before we went to bed.
After awhile of doing this our fire would start to die down until it was nothing more than a glowing pile of ash in our pit underneath.
At this point Mr.Kamehameha would take out his hose and put out our fire until it went out completely before he said goodnight to Mrs.Kamehameha and me and went to bed.
Then Mrs.Kamehameha would walk me over to my room and tuck me into bed with another hug and kiss before she said goodnight to me and went to bed herself.
My room was a small hut that was attached to our main house with a doorway in between them so that I could be close to my family at all times but still have my own space to sleep in at night.