Which is why I was so pleasantly surprised during one recent foray into fantasy when every shade of blue stretched as far as the eye could see; where white sand welcomed the wave’s insistent chatter with timeless patience; where my red beach umbrella graciously kept the sun at bay as a gentle breeze swept the hair from my face; where the palm trees whispered sweet nothings in my ear.
My eyelids fluttered as I struggled to bring my husband’s face into focus. Jim leaned closer, nibbled at my ear, and then handed me a cold drink. I broke through the surface of my daydream as condensation from the aluminum can dripped one cold reminder after another; this stretch of beach, this exquisite moment, in all its riveting Technicolor, wasn’t a dream. I was living the dream, in Maui, in love with my husband and my good fortune.
Maui! Waui! No wonder they all wear sandals here. This Valley Isle will knock your socks off. It certainly put me over the top (especially when it comes to embellishing the rudiments of my dreams).
I did look and feel like a new person within days of our arrival.
The crease along the bridge of my nose began to melt away as time leisurely unraveled like a cat stretching languorously rather than a dog chasing its tail. The creases around my mouth and eyes were proving considerably more stubborn, but hell, who was I to split more hairs.
I was prone to giggles too, my joy with the sights and sounds and smells of paradise too much to contain.
Humuhumunukunukuapua’a (now that I know the secret to the Hawaiian language, I’m addicted to this beautiful word) has more letters than the Hawaiian alphabet (5 vowels and 7 consonants is all Hawaiians need to recreate the blissful sounds of paradise). Like everything in paradise, it’s all about easy and breezy.
If you look closely, this common trigger fish’s fancy claim to fame is actually very melodic, made up of the syllables humu-humu-nuku-nuku-a-pu-a-a. Phonetically, it’s pronounced hoomoo-hoomoo-nookoo-nookoo-ah-poo-ah-ah. Don’t you think those last few syllables alone are a blatant invitation to giggle? Okay, maybe you had to be there.
And to think all these years the word antidisestablishmentarianism was up there at the top of my list. It’s so black and white! No rhythm! No style! No color!
Truth be told, I was giddy with delight at the prospect of seeing . . .
. . . the sun set with a palm tree in the foreground rather than a Midwestern cornfield;