This is something that brought us together as young girls 20 years ago and again and again as women, and most importantly, as mothers.
We sat there for hours. Lava rock and water. Probably two hour, which is a lot for a child's attention span, in silence, watching the puddles in the rock turn into tiny worlds right before our eyes.
So here we have world renowned chefs, and fresh local produce, meats and ingredients, wine brought it from around the world. It was the perfect conglomerate to celebrate how things both big and small, near and far, paired, unrelated, spicy, sweet, red, white, eccentric or expected can come together beautifully to make something amazing.
I need to get this out before I eat them all.
The sky gets prettier somehow in the winter: Darker and deeper, but gentle. When it gets breezy, the clouds move swiftly across the islands, you can watch it sail away... how neat it must be to find an island in the middle of the ocean.
I grew up with some of the chillest spiders on the planet.
The truth is that everything still hurts. All the pain I've chased away, hidden, ran from, pretended wasn't there, and of course, there's, the pain I've clung to and somewhat cherished, that is still there too. You see, sometimes pain is the only thing you have left from something else.