As our 2 year wedding anniversary approaches, I can't help but remember how my husband surprised me with our honeymoon spot.
I wanted to go back to Hawaii. My husband hates looking like a tourist so he immediately tossed that idea aside. "Everybody goes there for their honeymoon." He scoffed. "I don't want to look like another haole guy walking around Waikiki with a map and no clue."
"But you'll be with a local girl and I'll show you how to blend in!" I protested.
"No. It's too expensive anyway." He said. And that was that. The case was closed.
As our big day drew closer, my husband kept dropping hints. "You're gonna cry when you find out where I'm taking you." Cry? Oahu would make me cry. My soul ached to be home, surging with Aloha and that calming island spirit. But we weren't going there. "Oh, you'll also need your passport." He told me. Okay. We were definitely not going there.
The day after our wedding my parents drove us to the airport. "You're going to love me even more when you see our tickets." My husband was beaming. He looked like he was about to burst at the seams. Apparently he had told everyone our honeymoon destination and unfortunately everyone had glued their lips tightly shut.
The tickets printed out and I felt my palms getting sweaty. My nerves were doing jumping-jacks. My eyes widened when I saw the airport. "Phoenix? We're going to PHOENIX???" I exclaimed. Panic gripped me. Beach. I had asked for a beach. I'm a Pisces. A fish stuck in the desert? No thank you!
"Keep reading!" My husband urged. "That's just a layover."
"Honolulu International Airport." I breathed. I felt sheepish, silly, but most of all exhilarated. I was going home.
And yes, I did cry--a lot.
Some people think that where you've lived most of your life is your home. I disagree. I've lived the last fifteen years or so in Maryland. But my soul is not here. My heart is not here.
My heart is lost in the waves at Waimanalo. It's flying a kite on Magic Island at Ala Moana. It's searching for beach glass on the North shore and playing in tide pools.
Most of all, it's always looking for a way home.