Upcountry Sunset

We stood on our lanai, Ava and I, talking idly about—well, I'm not sure, actually. Things really were a little different in Hawaii. "Slow down, this ain't the mainland" makes a trite bumper sticker, but the idea felt real enough. Our hosts Michael and Gabby walked out through a sliding door to join us as the sun began to dip low. Michael leaned against the railing, Gabby casually walked into our room and started to sniff around. We didn't mind, what with him being a labrador and all.

"What do you feel right now?" Michael asked us.

"Nothing?" I tentatively answered, not really sure if I was supposed to be feeling a peaceful contentedness for island life or shame for my fast-paced, continental lifestyle.

"Exactly," he said, and Ava and I realized he was right. When we moved along the lanai, or reached down to scratch Gabby behind his ears, we felt nothing. The air was weightless, its temperature and pressure just so that it disappeared entirely.

We didn't say much as the sun slowly sank into the sea. Yellow, then orange, then red melted into the deepening blue water, and just when the sun was about to duck under entirely it flashed brilliant green, as though to throw one last salute, catch you on the flip side. We lingered as the stars slowly twinkled into the sky one by one, until the cool night breeze finally began to blow.

Upcountry Bed and Breakfast, Kula, Maui.