This morning I woke to the gentle drum of rain kissing giant palm fronds.

I have come to the Big Island – to the mother, to whisper to her the secrets of my silent sorrows and be held in her generous bosom.

My host, a dear friend who like me cannot believe it has been three years, is now sautéing sausages, onions and peppers for the first of many morning meals.

Later, maybe we will hike down to Waipi’o Valley to be with the velvety lusciousness of this place. Or, perhaps we will hear the power of Akaka falls and imagine swimming at its feet.

When the clouds part, a soft shore may emerge and invite us to recharge by the warmth of the sun.

I am here to connect, to be with the heart, with possibility and with reality. I am here to remember that things are not always as I’ve made them in my feeble mind.

When the time is right; when all has been said and I’m left only with what is felt, I will cast dreams into the ocean and watch them drift out, tiny and bobbing into the vastness.

I am so grateful.