I decided to take a girls’ trip to celebrate my birthday this year. Normally, I travel solo because aligning schedules with the people I love is almost impossible. So, when my best friend and I agreed on a simple goal — to rest, relax, and release anything heavy we’d been carrying — I was cautious but hopeful. This time, the trip actually made it out of the group chat, and our only real plan was to show up and be present.
With a little luck, we landed a direct flight to an island still healing from devastating fires. Our first night wasn’t about exploring: it was about finally catching up on sleep, which our bodies had been silently begging for after weeks of nonstop activity. The next few days guided us gently from beach to beach; we let the island introduce itself one shoreline at a time. Each stretch of sand had its own energy: some were soft and powdery, some were dark and rich in color, and others had waves so strong they made us laugh out loud when they knocked us back.
Mornings became an adventure in taste-testing the best loco moco and fluffy pancakes we could find. Afternoons were for chasing flavors at local spots, including a fish market serving a Cajun mahi sandwich that was so good we returned the very next day without hesitation. Somewhere between ocean stops, we also discovered a smooth pour of Japanese whiskey that made us pause and appreciate how joy sometimes comes in simple, unexpected sips.
Slow became our pace of choice. We drove along scenic routes carved by rugged coastlines, mountain ridges, and layers of earth that looked like they belonged in a geology museum. One path led us to a peaceful hike where every step felt like a reset; we inhaled fresh air, and we exhaled what no longer served us. Most evenings ended the same way: we watched the sun melt into the horizon just a short walk from where we stayed, the sky shifting from gold to lavender as we reflected on the year behind us.
Between food runs, ocean dips, and scenic drives, we made room for real conversations — unfiltered check-ins, shared reflection, and encouragement that felt more healing than any journal prompt. We toured a pineapple farm, where I tasted the sweetest pineapple I’ve ever had and learned that pineapples are technically berries (and that they take longer to grow than an elephant carries her baby). This experience provided me with the reminder that nature doesn’t rush beautiful things.
We respected the island, and we respected its people, and in return, it gave us peace, beauty, and a soft lesson in resilience: slowing down isn’t falling behind; sometimes it’s exactly how you catch up with yourself.