Solo Splash: Recharging Amidst Hawaiian Waves

As the sun rose over the Pacific Ocean, casting a warm glow over the landscape, I found myself standing alone on Waikiki Beach, the sound of waves gently lapping at my feet. The air was filled with the sweet scent of plumeria and the distant hum of traffic, but it was peaceful, a far cry from the chaos that often accompanied me back home. This was my first solo trip to Hawaii, one I had been planning for months as a way to recharge and reconnect with myself.

As I walked along the beach, the early morning light dancing across the water, I couldn't help but think of my daughter's recent milestone birthday and our family trip to Kauai just a few weeks prior. We had hiked the north coast, watched albatross from the cliffs, and indulged in shaved ice and passion fruits - all in one afternoon. My daughter had declared that given the choice between the ocean and anything else, she would pick the ocean. It was a sentiment I couldn't help but agree with.

But this trip was different. This time, I was traveling solo, without the constant demands of motherhood or the need to constantly be "on" for my child's sake. As a licensed clinical social worker once described it, "mom guilt" is what you feel when you criticize yourself because you didn't live up to an expectation that you set for yourself as a parent. I had been shouldering this guilt for months, feeling like I was failing as a mother by not being present and attentive enough.

The U.S. solo travel market is projected to reach $191 billion by 2030, driven in part by what researchers call "mental wellness trends" - a category that increasingly includes mothers who've decided a few days alone is reasonable. The industry calls these trips "momcations." It's an awkward word, but the demand is real.

I spent my days exploring Honolulu and Maui, taking in the breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean at the Four Seasons Hualalai, swimming with manta rays at night, and sitting spellbound by the ocean as the sun set. I walked alone up and down Waikiki Beach, finding a good cup of Kona coffee on the way back and sipping it slowly without interruption. I slept without an alarm clock, which was excellent.

One evening, I realized I hadn't looked at my phone since I'd arrived - just been staring out at the horizon, sipping something tropical, eating slowly without getting up to get anyone anything. It was a feeling I couldn't help but crave more of.

I visited Pearl Harbor, something I'd been meaning to do for years, and wandered through the quiet, unhurried atmosphere. I felt a sense of reverence as I walked among the monuments and memorials, thinking about my grandfather who served in World War II and what this place meant to him.

On Maui's Kaanapali Beach, I found a clear, brilliant turquoise ocean that photographs couldn't fully capture. I fell asleep to the sound of waves just steps outside my door, drank cocktails at the pool bar, and stared into the blue until I couldn't tell if it was the ocean or the sky.

I drove through Lahaina, still rebuilding after the wildfires that had destroyed a neighborhood in 2024. The scale of what was lost was unmistakable, but I also saw the resilience and kindness of the people who had been affected by the disaster. It made me miss my daughter even more, wanting to share this experience with her.

As I sat on a private beach at the Andaz Maui at Wailea Resort, watching the sun set over Molokini Crater and Kahoolawe, I felt grateful for this time alone. It wasn't about abandoning my role as a mother or shirking my responsibilities; it was about taking care of myself so that I could be a better parent.

Mollie Krengel, founder of the women's travel company Wildhive, told Fox Business that when we give ourselves these experiences, "we return home a better mom, a better wife, a better colleague and a better friend. We connect deeper within ourselves, we transform, and we are reminded of who we are without the identities that often take precedence when we are home, such as mom, wife, daughter, and so on."

As I packed my bags to head back home, I couldn't help but think about what my daughter would want me to model for her. It's not the one who has it all together; it's someone who gives grace, tries to be present, makes time to take care of their own needs and finds joy outside of their kids. If I want them to know this, I need to model it.

I started planning our next trip - together - almost as soon as I unpacked. It was a reminder that even in the midst of solo travel, my role as a mother is always present, always guiding me towards what's best for my family.