I have long loved hammocks. Not banana hammocks, as my childhood friends and I called speedos. But real hammocks, the kind you pass lazy days in reading, relaxing and--if you're lucky--napping.
For the last few years, Josh and I have toted our his-and-hers double-wide tandem hammocks around, from campground to campground and flying site to flying site. We've hung them from fat Redwood trees and tall skinny pine trees. We've napped, read books and played a million variations of make-believe with our niece in nephew in them. We've even been known to cuddle together in our hammock.
But in Tonga, I finally got to hang our hammock between two palm trees above a soft beige beach with turquoise waves lapping at the shore. It was splendid!
Coral reefs hide beneath turquoise waters.
A soft breeze ruffled the palm fronds while fluffy cotton clouds formed a blanket across the baby blue sky. The air was warm, but not too warm and it as delightfully not humid. Our friends' boat was anchored a little ways off in the distance and the island was deserted, save for a momma goat her two kids.
Looking up into a soft sky framed by palm trees.
I found peace awaiting me in our navy blue and yellow hammock. And all I could do was smile, and then attempt a nap.
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