Pineapple Dreams

Tonight, a chilly night in January, I carefully carved a pineapple into bite-sized triangles and stood over the sink and ate so many of them that I got a sore on my tongue. I was dreaming about Hawaii, my "happy place." Every year for five years I spent my birthday on one of the islands and was extraordinarily content. There is something about getting up before dawn and heading to a portion of reef that is teeming with colorful life and starting one's day by snorkeling for three hours that for me is pretty much the definition of bliss. That, plus Plumeria blossoms just waiting to be sniffed then tucked behind one's ear, drinking fresh young coconuts, listening to the laugh of geckos, well, the list goes on. I can see why Hawaii is also called paradise. Unless I win lotto (or my book becomes a runaway bestseller) I will not be going this February, but as long as there is pineapple, I can dream....