IN OTHER WORDS | Kauai Christmas

One Christmas, while living in Seattle, my husband and I made a promise to each other. The next year, we were going to Hawaii. Yes, the most expensive Christmas destination. But we were miserable. The weather was terrible, dark and dreary. I had the flu on Christmas Eve and couldn’t join in extended family events. Christmas Day, after the kids opened presents, two weeks of grey days loomed ahead. We fell into a major slump. Even the kids, after a few hours of new toys, were bored and gloomy.

And that Christmas, December 2008, was one of our best holidays ever. I don’t regret a dime. It was also a year Seattle, atypically, had snow. A lot of snow. We almost didn’t get out. A storm hit a few days before our flight, cleared just in time for the airlines to open and get us out and then another big storm hit as we landed in sunny Kauai.
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Santa found us there. We made sure of it. The boys were three and six, so our youngest was still ridiculously cute, and our oldest was turning into a great big brother and a lot of fun. Both wrote Santa letters explaining we wouldn’t be home, and could he please send our presents to Kauai. And he did. Leave it to Santa. Christmas morning, we woke up to piles of gifts under a make-shift tree.

The vacation was full of swimming and napping and snorkeling and napping and boogie boarding and eating and drinking and more napping and movie watching. We went to Poipu Beach; the same beach where we had honeymooned a decade earlier, where we had first started our marriage together. We wanted to share that with our boys. We sat in the same spots, played in the same sand, swam in the same waters, snorkeled with the same sea turtles. Aloha.



You’ll see a new post from me, every day in November as part of National Blog Posting Month, NaBloPoMo. Join in for an entire month dedicated to writing. See BlogHer for all the information you need to get started.


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