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break up the nearing ocean view. POD’s “Youth of a Nation” stirs her pace as the road twists to an area of jagged black rock just feet from the shore. There’s a feeling of belonging as the morning clouds break to reveal a pale blue sky.
    This is where I should be. Her pace slows when she sees an empty lot. I know I’m dreaming, but talk about the ultimate location. It’s just a patch of black gravel packed flat and tight, ready for construction, but oh, the possibilities. She daydreams as the waves lap against the rocks and the tapering pavement separating the road from the Pacific. She comes to a series of huge McMansions with wraparound lanais and green manicured lawns. They nearly eclipse a tiny and very old plantation style house sitting back from the road.
    Scaffolding looks like it’s holding up the roof on the north end as painters scrape and gut rotten wood, and a man in a backhoe works a trench near the foundation. That’s a lot of work. It’s awesome that they’re saving it though. Most people would tear it down.
    The man in the backhoe whistles to someone standing on the porch just as a truck full of surfers startles her by revving their engine. Monica snaps out of her daydream and waves them on. She rounds the corner and sees a mass of guys waxing their boards. The surf is growing and the word was out. God, I love it here. The tan muscles and chiseled smiles launch her into a turn in the road that lifts away from the shore.
    Soon a vast desert of black lava rock and brush lay out for miles. The new terrain is lonely and isolating, and the sun now above mount Haleakala stings her fair skin. Her thoughts twist unexpectedly. We’re going to be okay. We’re both here and working on things. Last night was so fun. It’s been so long since we just let go and were just us... no baggage or role playing. No Quinn. It sinks in. No Quinn. That’s a good sign.
    The Garmin beeps hitting the three mile mark and signals it’s time to turn around and head back. I’ve earned my french toast today. On the way back she kicks up the pace and nods a “good-bye-for-now” to each property and the amazing ocean front road that leads back to their resort, and eventually breakfast.
    Alex found a great local’s restaurant in Keihi years ago when they got sick of paying thirty-five dollars for a mediocre breakfast at their hotel. Now, like everything in their life, it’s an assumed ritual before heading to the beach. The diner serves loco moco and macadamia nut pancakes the way it’s supposed be served, in large portions.
    “So we have a massage appointment at three o’clock,” Alex says.
    “Shut up! Are you serious?” She watches his grin and nod when her jaw drops. “You went all out didn’t you? Is it in those beach cabanas or-” His continuous nodding makes her shrill. “Oh honey, just like our honeymoon.” He winks and swallows his mouth full. “So you wanna do some snorkeling this morning and hang at the resort all day?”
    “I thought it would be nice. We can go explore the town tomorrow.”
    He knows his planning is setting up the perfect first day. As soon as they get back to the resort Monica is all about digging her feet into the hot sand and taking in a little beach reading. They snag a couple of lounge chairs under an umbrella and strap on fins to swim around the rocks in search of sea turtles.
    In the peaceful hum of the ocean, the blurry sight of Alex in the distant water resembles Quinn. I didn’t think about him at all last night. That’s a first. At least since August. Wonder where he is? In this ocean? No. Get a grip! Last night was so great. If I can do one night without, I can do another, and eventually get him outta my head.
    As usual Monica tires of the turtle search before Alex and heads to their chairs to dive into her Kindle. Hours melt away as the sun moves high above and they go through drinks and a lite lunch. Once they’re covered in coconut oil and hot stones in a private