State of Being

Aloha. 

Our last day in Paradise and like most people who visit the lush island of Kauai, we don’t want to leave.

It’s been rainy, a bit chilly, windy and seasonably weather-rich in Princeville, our home for a week as we celebrate my kind, brilliant and insightful nephew’s 11^th birthday, which happens to be today, April Fool’s Day. In a blink of an eye, he’s 11. In another breath, he’ll be graduating from college. It’s all going by so fast. 

So ….. I get up before dawn and go to sleep long past exhaustion to squeeze in as much life as I can. I drink a second, and sometimes third cup of Kona coffee, savoring the symphony of zebra doves, red-chested cardinals, mynas and all the birds of this jungle orchestra that beckons me from sleep. Intoxicating. Like Aladdin’s magic lamp, dawn’s misty curtain lures me from slumber as my nephews and cousin snore, each of us doing our own thing, restoring our souls in our own way, in this place of green.

It’s no wonder I dream of living here. I can never get enough. But then I wonder if it’s because I’m with family, hanging out, getting to know and love each other better, that’s really what I crave. 

The geography. A neon 3-D postcard. Virtual Reality, as the young people call it. I’m staring at the saturated mountains, defined by light, hidden by threads of wet cotton, illuminated at the edge of the Na Pali Coast by a chunky rainbow. I’m on a movie set, jarred into reality by the leaf blower tidying the golf course. I have a little more than 24 hours to memorize this view before returning to the mainland and jumping into my next adventure—more birthday-ing with my nephew at his home perched along the California coast, a slumber party family gathering promising fun and fellowship. Much to look forward to as I give-in to the need to wrap myself in a cozy blanket and shelter from the tradewind. 

Minutes later, the blessed tropical sun reappears and, according to Apple Weather, shows up with its friend—the clouds—for the next hour. Something about the sun that feels uplifting and restorative. March in Kauai is temperamental and wonderful for those of us who don’t appreciate extreme humidity and heat. Reviving. Stimulating to the pores.

The red jungle fowl proclaims, “I’m here, I’m here!” How can you not smile? I’m here. I’m HERE!

A brief Tiki Room rainstorm surprises from the East, car=washing the landscape. The birds grow quiet. Why don’t they sing in the rain? I wonder. Are they napping? Eating breakfast? Tending to their young? Just as quickly, the sun re-appears reminding me that it’s all—the wanted and unwanted—a grand metaphor:  

Nothing lasts forever. Not your problems. Not your stage of life. Not a Hawaiian vacation. Not childhood or old age. It’s all fleeting. Compost. The sounds, the mystery, the orchestra, waves, wind, the rainstorms, never to be experienced exactly this way again. Enjoy. It all.

My coffee is cold, yet still tastes Kona delicious. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and am once again cozy and warm.

The mountains are lime green, as my nephew pointed out the other day, velvet to the touch.

So close. So far.

I hike up the muddy trail, gazing at the turquoise sea, then slide down Big Thunder waterfall before it vanishes to tomorrow.

My dear nephew. Growing up so fast. Happy Birthday, Sweet Dylan. May you always be the person you are today, kind, brilliant and full of Aloha wonder.