Postcard from Hawaii: Mele Kalikimaka

Well, it was bound to happen.

After multiple moves, declutterings, and rearrangings, I finally did it.

I misplaced a scrapbook.

I can picture the box I kept it in. Visualize the binder that was purchased for the occasion: a trip to Hawaii over Christmas and New Years to sing the National Anthem at the Aloha Bowl with my high school choir. But as I prepared to write this post and searched the shelves and memory boxes (yes, plural) for the album, it could not be located. And this wasn't just any scrapbook. This documented the drama that unfolded before the trip even took place.

Planning started out as exciting as one would imagine a high schooler would be about going to Hawaii with a large group of friends. Funds were raised. Arrangements were made. But when it came time for the tickets to be purchased, those funds (like my scrapbook) could not be located. While I don't remember all the details (I would if I could find the article I kept in the scrapbook), there was, of course, the crushing disappointment that the money was gone and the trip would be cancelled. This was followed by the exhilaration of a generous donation from the local McCafferty Auto Group. The trip was back on!

Then the realization hit. This would be my first major trip and holiday without my family. This added a bittersweetness to the whole experience.

Growing up in the Northeast, the holiday season is typically cold and sometimes snowy. It's the rosy cheeks, see your breath, cuddle by the fire with cocoa kind of weather. So packing swimsuits, shorts, and flipflops in December to spend Christmas and New Years by the beach was a wild feeling. It's been done once before in the Virgin Islands, but that was a family reunion. This time the only families going were chaperons that could afford it.

In the end, I swapped the snow for sand, but I still got the rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, I could see my bubbled breath as I snorkeled the protected reefs, and I cuddled under the towel after a swim. Of course I wasn't going to give up this once-in-a-lifetime travel/choir opportunity. Christmas comes every year. Trips to Hawaii do not.

However, the decorated palm trees and stockings hung in a hotel room didn't have the same holiday cheer. Plus, we weren't even allowed to leave the hotel to watch fireworks on New Years Eve. Rumor was, the abundant prostitution in the area restricted our evening events.

Even though the trip had mostly positive memories, I'm still partial to a cold-weather Christmas—even if it doesn't snow. It adds a cozy feel to the season, especially when snuggled by a crackling fire.

Hopefully one day I'll find that scrapbook and reminisce about the luaus, volcano hike, and lush scenery. Or maybe I'll just book another ticket and make new memories.