Ocean Watch

EACH year on this day, my birthday, I make a point of reflecting upon where I've been and where I'm going. This year, as I mulled over the meaning of life, I realized that this is the 20th anniversary of my first visit to Hawaii. Now there's a trip worth pondering.

Hawaii was not a dream place for me. I lived in Colorado at the time and felt quite content with mountains, marmots and pine trees. No, this trip to the tropics was entirely my spouse's idea.

"Want to go to Hawaii?" he asked me one day.

"What for?"

"For a vacation."

I could tell he really wanted to go. Well, what the heck. Twist my arm. "Sure," I said. And off we went to Honolulu.

Our first day, we hiked to the top of Diamond Head and gazed down. Seeing that narrow metropolis stretching out between those lush green mountains and the vast blue ocean left me speechless.

I had never seen a city more beautiful.

Nighttime Honolulu was just as good. Lights coursed down the mountains like streams of lava, covering the ridges, filling the valleys and flooding the narrow plain. It felt like fairyland.

We walked Kalakaua Avenue, passing long-haired street musicians, buzz-cut military men and Japanese couples in matching outfits. People-watching had never been this good.

Later, we took a long, quiet stroll down Waikiki Beach, watching waves break white in the moonlight.

At Hanauma Bay we snorkeled and fed fish and later roamed Kailua Beach, stopping often to examine marine animals washed ashore. I didn't know any fish or invertebrate names, but I loved them all anyway.

Then Craig wanted to see Kauai. All islands seemed alike to me then, but I didn't argue. We flew to Lihue.

"Let's go boogie-boarding," he said. I didn't know a boogie board from a baloney sandwich, but he rented two boards and then found a shallow, sandy spot where we could walk out to the break and push off with our feet.

Soon I was riding waves and laughing out loud. I rode that boogie board so long, my chin rubbed raw against the rough surface and my face hurt from smiling.

Then it was time to go home.

"The trip went by too fast," I said on the way back to Denver. "I could have stayed there forever."

"Really?" he said. "You wanted to stay?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I'd always planned on moving to Hawaii as soon as I finished my residency."

I stared at him. "We've been together two years and you never once mentioned Hawaii," I said.

"I didn't want you to go there for me," he said. "I wanted you to go there for yourself."

He'd set me up. Everything we did on that trip had been high on romance, low in fear and aimed directly at my interests.

And it worked.

Twenty years later, the water sports are harder, but those moonlight walks are still romantic, our trips up Tantalus to see the city lights are better than ever and I know the names of marine animals.

And so on this birthday, I'll remember that one of the best things that ever happened to me was getting hoodwinked.

Thanks, Craig. I look forward to the next con.