I love Paradise. Technically I love any beach with warm blue water, soft sand, and if you throw in a piña colada and a cabana boy- I’m in hog heaven.
Three years ago a dear friend invited me to join her on a vacation to Hawaii. One week in Kona. It didn’t seem right to travel that far and not go to Pearl Harbor, so I arrived a day early in Honolulu.
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The first thing I remember is stepping outside the hotel door at oh dark thirty in the morning (all tours to Pearl start v-e-r-y early) and mumbling to the driver “what beautiful weather”. His response- “There’s a reason they call this Paradise.” Of course the writer in me immediately thought-- Gotta put that in a book somewhere.
