Paradise

"I can't stop thinking about Hawaii", I told my son-in-law a month ago.  "Oh you'll be thinking about it a lot more when you come back", he warned...

I've been missing a special place that I recently visited.  For more than two weeks I have been in Hawaii.  I never thought I would have the chance to visit this part of the world and yet, I never thought I would love it so much either.  Hawaii is very beautiful with a lovely aesthetic that is partially ancient lore and partially post-war beauty.  And unlike New England's crisp nautical sun, Hawaii's light is far-reaching and golden.

The picture above is one that I took on the Ke'anae Peninsula on the Road to Hana.  I almost wept at the breathtaking beauty and felt a deep connection to the inlet which I later read was the site of a devastating tsunami in 1946.  I sensed it was hallowed and snapped quite a number of pictures like this one with my cell phone.  There was an old church left standing and like all churches in Hawaii, the doors were wide open to anybody that happened to pass by.

In addition to the famous Road to Hana, we visited the Black Sand Beach where black-as-night lava rocks cover the shore.  We toured the volcanoes on The Big Island, careful not to take anything that wasn't ours so as not to anger Pele, the mythical Goddess of Volcanoes.  We ate fish and passion fruit, wore flowers in our hair, and shopped in small boutiques in Maui's Up Country.  And every afternoon, we raced to the shore to sit huddled in matching weathered chairs to let the Trade Winds wash over us and blow our cares out to sea.

My companions were my daughter and my son-in-law and the only mar on our adventure were the three days my daughter was ill.  On the plane to The Big Island, my only child became sick with a high fever and chills.  She also had an extreme headache that frightened me.  Upon landing, we took her to the hospital were she was admitted.  For three days, we sat by her side as fluids and antibiotics were drained into her.  And although the environs surrounding the hospital were gorgeous, the landscape lost its sparkle.  Thankfully, before too long, we were back to our vacation and all the gifts the islands had to offer.

Now I am home with a volcanic suitcase on the living room floor exploding with clothes to be washed, presents to distribute, and plenty of keepsakes, including the journal I kept on our trip.  I am missing paradise and reliving all the wonderful things we experienced and as my son-in-law predicted, I am thinking about Hawaii alot.   Of course, as I reminisce, my thoughts also race back to those three days I was frantic with worry for my daughter - those recollections are woven into the tapestry of my journey too.  When the memories come, I lean in and let them wash over me just as the winds did on the edge of Hawaii's magnificent shores.  And it is then that I realize...True Paradise is when loved ones are healthy...

~

PS:  If you have ever visited the magical isles of Hawaii, I would love to hear about it.

Wish You Were Here

I like to take a little something home with me each time I go to the beach.  Sometimes I find a pretty piece of sea glass or a perfect creamy white shell.  These little tokens stay on my desk for a time or the windowsill in the kitchen.  But eventually, they seem out of place, especially when the light changes in September.

Wearing summer perfumes is another way of pocketing souvenirs. When I summered on Cape Cod as a teen, Houbigant's Chantilly was never beyond my reach in the envelope compartment of my small floral suitcase.  Later, I swapped fragrances with my best friend and wore her Emeraude for my strawberry oil roll-on.  Our scents made their way into our long windswept hair and the collars of the open jackets we wore at night.  Most perfume back then could be bought very inexpensively at local drugstores and we tried everything from Chanel 5 to Jean Nate.  Later, I discovered Love's Baby Soft which was catnip for not only my boyfriend at the time, but also for me.  It was like a heady drug and I could have rolled around in it - I craved its innocent scent so much.  It was the soft powdery element that I wanted - so childlike and tender.

As a young mother, I was given Elizabeth Arden's Eau Fraiche, a light cult classic that's meant to be sprayed all over the body.  As it dries down, it smells like fresh-cut lilies that are just about to burst forth in a sparkling crystal vase. It's delicious but alas...the fragrance is ephemeral and vanishes quickly, much like the season.

My point is that special perfumes worn only in summer, are like bright picture postcards sent home to be cherished and read and then re-read. They are unexpected keepsakes of our warm-weather days. And when we suddenly happen upon them later in winter - clinging lightly to a scarf or sweater, or dabbed behind our ears after finding a bottle tucked away in a drawer - we are transported back to our golden fleeting summers.  As for the messages in those bottles?  It is but the same - wish you were here.