I AM MY SUNSHINE

One does not want to sound ungrateful.  I am grateful, believe me.  The opportunity to spend 2-1/2 weeks in Hawaii at the end of January and beginning of February is not something to take for granted.  I am blessed beyond belief.

But does that mean I can't be a wee bit disappointed that this 2-1/2 weeks has been unseasonably cool and cloudy?  I was sooooo looking forward to this trip, imagining long lounges in the sun, frequent dips in the huge pool, kicking at the waves lapping the sandy shore….

Got a little bit of that -- a very little.  Mostly, it felt like home on days when we stare up at the overcast sky and try to figure out which way the clouds are moving and whether there is a sun above the thick layer of gray and when, if ever, it might break through; days when we dress in shirtsleeves and sweatshirts and spend an inordinate amount of time putting on and taking off various layers of clothing; days when we hope that "tomorrow" the sun will come out.

We are going home today; home to where snow fell last night, blanketing Puget Sound in white, which is also unusual and I wonder if the new buds and bursts of green in my garden, that were a harbinger of spring not too far off, will survive the deep freeze of last week and the snow of this weekend.

For someone who seems to need sunshine like nourishment, I have to question my decision to live in the rain-soaked Northwest and then buy a timeshare on Hawaii's wettest island.   Maybe it has to do with the green, lush, amazing beauty of both places.

Maybe it is my Higher Self hitting me over the head with the message that my narrowly defined comfort zone could use some expanding.   Other people went in the pool in spite of the wind and cloud cover and only shivered a little bit when they got out.  Other people went on cloudy, drizzly day hikes and laughed over slipping and falling onto Kauai's red dirt trails that turn to mudslides with the slightest precipitative provocation.   Other people donned rain gear and booked whale watching expeditions onto the choppy Pacific.

Sorry, Higher Self, I don't buy it; none of these things appeal to me.  I don't like being cold, covered in red mud that never washes out and leaves a stain on all it touches (voice of experience), or being seasick.

I just kept waiting for the sun:   reading several books, doing the NYT crossword each morning, journaling, blogging, posting to FB and working on some poems, watching the whales spout and breech offshore, going on "let's explore backroads" drives, savoring the most amazing Hub-grilled fish every night by candlelight in our room overlooking Kalapaki Bay, being quiet, being social, being reclusive, being 100% in connection with Hub (no disagreements, arguments, frustrations, or resentments in spite of 24/7 proximity!).

OK, maybe it wasn't such a bad trip after all; maybe all that sunshine would have distracted me from the quieter warmth that finds a way to shine from within.

At least, that's the view from here… ©