![\"outdoor-shower\"](\"http:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/outdoor-shower.jpg\")
<\/a>Everything is bright, so bright you don\u2019t notice the out-door shower. Later in the week you\u2019ll take Instagram photos from inside that shower, of the nearby flowers and distant mountains. But for now you just want to haul your bags inside and have a beer. The house is green. Not a real-estate, easy-to-sell green, but an almost garish green. Three years later, writing down a description of the place for a writing-course blog entry, you\u2019ll think: monopoly house green.<\/p>\nIt\u2019s not a big house, but it\u2019s big enough. A back door leading into the kitchen. A rickety table, something from the seventies. Well trod linoleum. A squat fridge; your fridge at home is an enormous, brushed-stainless-steel behemoth, but this one\u2019s short enough to see the top, where you can set your bag of groceries. Some sweet onion potato chips, a few cans of spam, more than one six-pack. 11 of 12 bottles go into the fridge; the other goes in your hand.<\/p>\n
The kitchen window with the view of the beach a few blocks away. The next room, a sitting area, large, overstuffed couches that would be miserable in this heat. Because it\u2019s stifling in here. You glance at one bedroom with its tiny bed. Pass the cramped bathroom. Step outside onto the porch, two rocking chairs, a card table, more view of beach.<\/p>\n
And then the breeze arrives, gentle, like it wants to ask you a question. You sit down in one of the rocking chairs, open the beer, and drain half of it. You ask yourself, where else would you want to be right now? You\u2019re not even sure if any other place on earth exists right now.<\/p>\n
The breeze moves around, makes the grass in front of the green house wave, plays in the distant palm trees. The sun\u2019s getting ready to think about setting, but content for the moment to loll in the sky. Deep blue, probably goes on forever.<\/p>\n
You notice your beer is empty, so you stand up. Notice how the screen door creeks when you open it. The floorboards, too, as you walk into the kitchen. Grab another beer. This house is starting to feel like your threadbare Hawaiian shirt (had it for 10 years) and your easy-fit cargo shorts. Where did your shoes go? Nevermind. Grab a book from the shelf of vacation-left-behinds next to the door. Something with guns and intrigue and romance. Stuff you don\u2019t really have in your life.<\/p>\n
But you\u2019ve got that beer, that breeze, that rocking chair. That\u2019s really all you need. All you want, too. So turn to page one. You\u2019re going to be here for a while.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You stop the car and the Hawaii heat comes back because there\u2019s no more driving breeze. You can feel it in your bones. Even if you\u2019re only in your (early!) forties, you can see why old people move to places like Miami and Arizona. Why not Hawaii? The long flight? The disappointingly drab view from … <\/p>\n