This will be one of the shorter blog I’ve ever written, but I just wanted to check in and give you all an update. Tomorrow is our final day on Kauai, with an 8:00 pm red-eye flight to Seattle and then an early morning connection to Minneapolis. It’s been an incredible trip, and Barbara has been here since Sunday, so the fun level has been off the chart. I’m also just posting random photos in no particular order, just to give you more visuals of The Garden Isle.
I’m sorry for the late posting of this Thursday Blog Day installment, but I’m five time zones away. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. I’m on a smallish island, out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It’s a fun place called Kauai and I’ve been here since last Friday. This is one of those places were time flies and the days go by in a blur. Can’t believe this is my seventh day on The Garden Isle, but I still have two more weeks to go.
It seems like every single day of the year is now the “Official Day” of something, whether it be National Dog Day, Cat Day, or whatever. Yesterday was “National Suicide Awareness Day.” Every single day of each year should wear that moniker. I know. I just experienced it and I’m still grappling with it and trying to process the whole thing. If you’ve never gone through being on this side of a friend’s suicide, you can’t imagine it. As of Sunday until around 12 noon, I couldn’t imagine it.
Time. It is, simultaneously, both a concept and a scientific fact. In our world, at least for those of us who aren’t super-advanced scientists who speculate and hypothesize about the flexibility (or even the reality) of the concept of linear time, it’s just what marks our minutes, hours, days, and calendars. It’s when we get up, it’s when we go to school or work, and it’s how we know the weekend is here. It is consistently perfect. There are always 60 minutes in an hour. Well, except for that aberration in the time/space continuum known as high school algebra class, when time would slow to a crawl or seem to cease movement altogether. And those other moments in time, like the last two weeks of summer before going back to school, when the clock and the days would accelerate into warp drive and each hour passed in what seemed like a blink. But time, like the hands on a fine watch, really just marches forward at the same pace. It’s weird, I know.