Secret World

The sun wedged herself between layers of heavy rain-filled clouds, creating perfect silhouetted figures across the beach. Like vibrantly colored swimsuits against bright turquoise water where our skin is painted in gold, blackened figures contrasting in muted filtered light is as equally beautiful.

I love days were the afternoons linger, practically coming to a complete halt, giving us an extra dose of memory making. We’ve been on our own clock, in our own time zone, and loving every moment of this summer goodness.

I read this passage this other day, and I believe it is spot on.

 Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them you’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.
-Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 5: A game of you

Here we are, in our own world, with vibrant swimsuits and black silhouettes.

And it’s unimaginable. Magnificent. Wonderful. Stupid. And amazing.

Create your unimaginable world.

Love, Emmie

Happy Life

These days I blog and edit my photos from my mom’s kitchen table that I’ve transformed into a makeshift desk. It's facing the front window with a view of a budding plumeria tree filled with finch birds, and a slice of the Honolulu cityscape in the background. In the dawn of early morning the birds chirp wildly, serving as a natural built in alarm clock, and at dusk the sun falls behind the highrise building in an orange glow, setting the evening sky on fire. It’s the perfect space to work and the best spot in the house, but when I’m not writing or responding to email, we’re spending the day traveling around the island and lounging on the beach.

I’m still learning how to navigate around Honolulu --there’s a ton of bumper to bumper traffic, and just as many walkers and cyclers. Some days it takes an hour to get to point A to point B; other days it takes ten minutes. We’ve worked out our traveling to a science; mapping out our destination around the days of the week and time of day, figuring out what to do when, and the result of our grand mathematical equation? It goes a little something like this: hit up the beach early morning or late afternoon, pray for a parking space, and hope for little traffic. Genius, no?

We’ve explored several beaches thus far --some with smooth sand, some with grainy sand; some with turquoise water, others cobalt blue; some have big waves, others so calm that that you  can see to the bottom-- each one is so different, but yet the same. Despite being jet lagged, having inconsistent sleeping schedules, and irregular meals, one thing remains consistent-- the kids are loving every moment of this adventure, even when the sand gets stuck in their hair and in the little cracks of their body.

And while it’s absolutely beautiful when the sunshine reflects its rays off of the ocean, my favorite part of the day is sunset, hands down. It’s breathtaking --glowing shades of orange, pink, and radiant blue bursting throughout the sky, illuminating the tropical landscape and turning our bodies into dark silhouettes.
 

There’s something magical that takes place during this sliver of the day.

This, this I can get use to. This, this is a happy life.

Aloha,

Em