Present Over Perfect

connection and less by exhaustion and competition. But this
vein of inner darkness remained. If anything, maybe it
became more visible once I slowed down a little. Maybe it’s
part of the reason I’d been running.
In the springtime, we went to Hawaii—Aaron and I
worked for a few days in Honolulu, while my in-laws
helped with the kids, and then we spent a few days on
Kauai, just the four of us. And those days on Kauai held a
true magic for our family. We rented a slate-blue Jeep and
drove up into canyons and along the beaches, stopping for
shave ice and visiting coffee farms and watching dolphins
and turtles dip and emerge again just off the rocks. It was a
time of so much sweetness and silliness. We swam and went
to playgrounds and farmer’s markets and fell into bed at
night, exhausted and happy.
We’d heard that the snorkeling at Tunnels Beach was
one of the most extraordinary spots anywhere, so one day
we went to Hanalei for fish tacos, watching the kayaks and
paddleboards float by on the river, and then on to Tunnels
Beach, right on the edge of the Napali Coast.
It’s called Tunnels because from the air, the reefs look
like tunnels running under the water to the shore. We parked
at the base of a deeply green mountain, steep and beautiful,
and then walked and walked, until finally we arrived at this
breathtaking underwater lattice of coral—“tunnels” through
the sand. Henry and Aaron put on their masks and snorkels
and went exploring first, while Mac and I sat at the edge of
the water, letting the gentle waves knock us down a