My postings have been a little light this week as I have been preparing Franck, myself, and the bevy (that’s A LOT of sundresses) to fly off to Hawaii tomorrow morning.
Kihei, Maui to be exact.
I was lucky enough to spend at least three weeks every Spring in Kihei growing up but I haven’t been back since Grade 12, the year before I went to France and my life spun on its axis.
We’ll be staying at the same condo complex we used to stay at – Hale Hui Kai – and I am expecting the entire experience to be a bit of a blast from the past…with the exception of having to chase after a 2 year old instead of lathering myself with a thick coat of baby oil and frying like a rotisserie chicken under the palm trees.
And then there’s Franck. The first time he ever even took a plane was when he came to Montreal so that we could be together a few months after I left France. Granted, he has more than made up for lost time since then, but growing up in Villers-la-Faye Hawaii was definitely not on his radar.
Paris, yes. Maui, no.
As he said to my parents a week ago, “If you had told me when I was ten that I would go to Hawaii one day, I would have looked at you as if you had told me I would be going to the moon. It seemed that impossible.”
And yet…that’s where we will be sleeping tomorrow night.