I live on a rock.

We moved to Hawai’i on June 28th.  Just last week, I looked up at the stars and the clouds drifting across the sky and I thought, “I live on a rock in the middle of the ocean.”

That thought is overwhelming, terrifying and delicious, all at once.

Ever since the moment I discovered that my father was born and raised on The Big Island, I’ve wanted to live in Hawai’i. It didn’t matter if it was for a month, or a year or a lifetime. I wanted to be HERE, and discover what it was that made his whole demeanor change when he talked about Home.

Soon after we met, my Hawaiian/Portuguese/Filipino/Puerto Rican/with a touch of Chinese boyfriend (now husband) said, “I’m going to marry you and move you back home.” Three years later, here we are on the island of O’ahu.

This is the diary of my adventure.

E komo mai.

 

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