We moved into our Hawaii house five years ago this week. Isaac was five, Eloise two. Between reminder photos popping up everywhere and finding out our renters will be moving out in a few months, I’ve had Hawaii on my mind.
I miss Hawaii: Our perfect little bungalow there, walking distance to church, Kailua town, the farmer’s market, the beach. The mountains rippling in the morning sunlight just outside the kitchen window. The sun riding behind the neighbor’s coconut palms. I miss walking down the street and feeling at home. I miss the kids’ constant smiles at the beach. I miss SUP at the beach. I miss the fantastic local restaurants and coffee shops. I miss rainbows and warm weather. I miss the sun rising at the same time we wake up. I miss the kids’ schools, and hearing the Hawaiian songs they learned. I miss Hawaiian music. I miss the Kailua community. I miss the ladies in my Bible study and hula class. I miss Hawaiian food. I miss how easy it was to make optometry and dental appointments, and the excellent, friendly care we got there. I miss walking through my front door and the feeling of crossing into a safe haven.
That being said… I miss absolutely nothing about Chris’ stressful job there!
Kailua is where I picture when I think about home. And I’m dreaming dreaming dreaming about the next time my feet will touch those sandy shores again.
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