Going halfway home — Grandbari

This time last week I was about to land at the Knoxville airport...fresh off a whirlwind of a weekend in Vegas. (Fresh is probably not at all the right word to use after a Vegas weekend.)

I was exhausted...but exhausted in the very best way.

This was year #2 for me to join a girl gang, united by our common raising on the small, tropical island of Okinawa and attending Kubasaki High School. Just so ya know, Okinawa is the most beautiful of places.

There's good reason why it's one of those places in the world where people live to a ripe old age. No one wants to prematurely leave its' food (taco rice, anyone?), people, beaches, mountains, sugar cane fields, rice patties or sea walls.

I never see a red hibiscus that I don't think of riding to the northern part of the island to reach the most beautiful place on earth, Nakijin. There's no debate about this, just believe me. I am certain that my love of all things green or flowering or lovely can be traced back to my island raising.

I digress.

This Kubasaki girl gang has welcomed me into the fold in the most gracious of ways. These women have shared their lives today and memories of yesterday with me (no need to explain being raised on reconstituted powdered milk to this group.) We fall back into the most easy familiarity, bound by our shared challenge of going home again. Secrets get told, difficulties get shared, and experiences get had. It's fabulous.