In 57 days, I will fly to Hawaii. Oahu, to be exact. I will step off the plane. A lei of flowers will be placed around my neck. With my partner by my side and the air full of the scent of plumeria and hibiscus blooms, he and I will make our way to our seaside villa. We will relax and eat fresh pineapple and walk on the beach.
No... we are more likely going to limp off the plane after being squashed into tiny seats. We will each be shoved into a line of sandle-wearers and MAY have lei's dropped over our heads (if we are lucky) by native college students as a camera flashes an overpriced photo. We will pay too much for a cab, then lug our bags into a miniscule condo and collapse where we stand from jet lag.
The next day, however...
There will be fragrant breezes, ocean waves, mountain hikes and relaxed daydreams of our future. You see... one of our goals is to plan our wedding for the following year.
Orange and purple sunsets over the ocean will remind me of the grandeur of nature.
Overcoming a fear of being shark bait will allow me to experience the view beneath the sea as well.
Lush, tropical trails and volcanic rock will challenge my muscles and my status quo.
Sand will smooth the rough edges off of my feet and my spirit.
I will experience the stress, joy and... stress... of planning my own beach wedding.
And, on October 24, I will write the last blog post for this project from a place in time that will be mine... and only mine.
I don't wonder what I will feel or how it will play out. I just know it will be a remarkable experience.