In 2014, I took an epic Bestie Vacay to Maui. It was one of the best trips in my memory. I go there in my mind and virtually as much as possible. If money were no object, I’d live there, and I would make it my home.
One memory popped up today. The day I was flying into Kahului, I was running on caffeine, adrenaline and excitement. When they opened the cabin doors, we were greeted with a fragrant aroma that was undoubtedly Hawaii.
When I stood up to deplane, there was a man in front of me who had an instrument case. He saw me taking it all in. Already. Still on the plane. He smiled and told me the scent was plumeria. He was a musician who split his time between California and Maui and each time he was deplaning, he could smell the plumeria and he knew he was home.
I believe we can have that sense of “home” in several places, including the place we pay rent. I love Houston and I have lived here 26 years now, the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere. I feel at home in Sunnyvale, California, because I have people I love there. I love Maui, because my soul feels at rest there.
I hope to go back to Maui once all this COVID business is finished. I want to smell the plumeria, crack a coconut, drink some POG and sit on the deck of my favorite restaurant (Aloha Mixed Plate) with my Bestie and enjoy some Spam. Until then, I will look at the photos and go to the memories in the corners of my mind. No one can take those away.