How does a girl who grew up in land-locked states end up moving to an island? Why does anyone do anything: love.
Today is one of many move days that Wes and I will experience in the next couple of weeks while we settle into a new life in Hawaii. We’ll be living out of suitcases until we can find a place and get all of our belongings moved in, and I may not have a job for a bit so this all sort of feels like a vacation. There’s something about seeing your boxed up and empty apartment in person that makes moving final, and I haven’t seen any of that yet.
Instead, I flew to Portland to finalize wedding details. So much has been packed into the last couple of days – things that I thought Wes and I could work on while we were here for a month. But, of course, things hardly ever go according to plan and instead of coming back from Hawaii on Friday, we are going to stay. So all of those things I thought I had more time to deal with, were pushed to the front – the photographer, the invitations, my hair. All of it taken care of with minimal crying on my end. Who knew that planning a wedding was so stressful?
Now I sit in the terminal of United (side note: it costs $125 to check a ski bag on United. Good thing Wes’ company is picking up the tab on that, but something that we’ll need to remember when booking flights with skis.) waiting for my 6:10 flight to San Francisco to meet up with Wes and then head to Oahu. I keep thinking how weird this is that we’re moving to Hawaii. Who lives in Hawaii? In my mind, Hawaii has always been a vacation destination and not a place to live and while that’s obviously not true I can’t help but think it: I’m moving to someone’s dream vacation.
