Hawaii-grown oysters

I love oysters the same way I love the ocean. There’s something romantic and wild about both that I’ve never been able to get enough of.

Early in my life, I decided I never wanted to live away from the ocean. It was after a summer spent in Houston, when I looked out of the 20th-floor lab where I worked and saw only flat land with no water at all. A friend drove me to the ocean after work, to Galveston, an hour away. We watched the moon rise over the water, the first time I realized that the moon rose like the sun. It threw a beam of light all along the still ocean to our feet. We stayed at the beach until sunrise. Despite the romance of it all, we hardly touched. We just sat together, our hands only a few grains of sand apart. Maybe that’s why every ocean moonrise after that feels like longing.