Water locked


When I lived in Honolulu, I would often find myself marveling that we lived there. On a personal level, it was pretty awesome to experience the Aloha spirit in a beautiful setting. On a broader level, I’d have these thoughts as a stood at the window of my 19th floor office – looking at the hustle and bustle of downtown, the stacks of colorful shipping containers at the harbor, and then the ocean beyond, with only water visible to the distant horizon. It’s pretty amazing to live on an island in the middle of the ocean, to contemplate how people even came to find this relatively remote land mass and eventually established and now perpetuate a society and economy linked to the rest of the world. (We won’t delve into the darker aspects of that right now.)
I kind of feel the same way when I fly out of New Orleans on a clear day. As soon as we’re airborne, it becomes apparent just how surrounded by water we are. As recent history has shown, this blur between land and water has its risks. But it’s also part of what makes me love my home. Flying above or driving past the river, the lake, the swamp, reminds me of how full and lush – in every sense of those words – life here is.
On a personal level, I feel lucky that, even at this time of year, MrMan can point out a bird of paradise on our morning drive to school. I appreciate the greenery everywhere. And even, most days, I appreciate the humidity. When I take the broader perspective, from the airplane window, I appreciate that hundreds of years ago, others found this area, in the midst of all this water, worth settling.


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