Sweet home Hawaii.
This weekend was definitely the quintessential island kind. We kayaked, swam in the ocean, went on adventures, met this sweet local pup, rode around in our jeep with the top down, went to my new favorite bakery and just soaked up the sunshine. I don’t think I even once put on a pair of shoes.
There are small, almost imperceptible things that seem to turn a place into a home.
We have started to find some of our favorite places in our neighborhood – one being the unreal beautiful path we biked down in these photos – and created some routines. Bike riding and finding fun ways to be active over weekends has sort of become a new tradition, and I think that’s what’s starting to make Hawaii, and this neighborhood, feel like home: the small little traditions and the physical familiarity we’re creating with our surroundings.
Not to mention how when you reach a certain closeness with a person, everywhere you go and everything you do with them has the ability to feel safe and cozy, like childhood, because he or she becomes home for you.
I know I’m safe to always choose adventure because Christian will always, always be there alongside me, much more proficient in the common sense ways of life, and to make sure I don’t get completely and utterly lost. Metaphorically, and oh so literally.
I love that Hawaii has tiny little fruit stands scattered along streets where you can pay by donation, and the way island time can mean that any work you need done on your house will have to wait a few days if the surf is too perfect to miss, and how you can jam your weekends full with activities that are good for your body and soul. That beats the treadmill every darn time.
So many mahalos to Hawaii for teaching me how to put serendipity into practice; how to seek out adventure at every corner.