On Sunday afternoon, I was rocking our 10-month-old grandson.

Now, that on the surface is pretty ordinary. No big deal, right? Nothing that many grandfathers haven’t done.

But those 25 minutes assured me I was where I belonged. They meant more to me because I was close to not being there to hold Beau until he finally closed his eyes, put his head on my shoulder and conked out.

You see, my wife and I lived on Kauai for nearly seven years. Good job. Good life. Good times. Sunshine and beaches. Snorkeling with green sea turtles. Watching humpback whales spout. Enjoying sunsets from the Hanalei Pier. It was wonderful.

One problem: No family.

Three thousand miles and change is a long ways, even a long time, to be apart.

It finally reached a point where we had to decide: Go home to Coeur d’Alene, or stay on Kauai and make it home. We had kept one foot in both places. It was time to put two feet down somewhere.

But where?

After much prayer, a door opened to return to North Idaho when my old boss, Mike Patrick, offered me, basically, my old job, with an upgraded title and pay.

It wasn’t Hawaii money. I would no longer be the boss. No more late-night beach walks or early morning runs by the ocean. We would have to say goodbye to many good friends.

With some reluctance, and even heavy hearts, my wife and I boarded Alaska Airlines and held hands as we flew away from the paradise we had come to love.

Why?

One word: Family.

We wanted to be a bigger part of our children’s and grandchildren’s lives. We wanted to be there for Easter Sundays, for Christmases, for birthdays and breakfasts. We didn't want to let the years pass — and they pass so quickly now — without those we most love and treasure.

So we came home.

I won’t deny there have been days I questioned, even regretted, our decision, especially after returning to work for two weeks at The Garden Island newspaper in June when they called and asked if I could help them through a tough spot. It sparked old feelings and memories and a reminder of what once was.

Since then, a voice has whispered, “Should have stayed on Kauai.” And on these gray and gloomy Idaho winter days, I sometimes turned to my wife and said, “We left Hawaii's blue skies and sunshine for this?”

No. Not that.

We left for those moments when we get to babysit Beau and his big brother, Harrison, who likes to roar like a dinosaur, play hide and seek, butt heads and calls me Papa. Or when we drive to Boise to visit our daughter, Kelli, her husband, Chris, and we get to watch our grandchildren, Hadley and Holden, at their football or soccer games. Chris and I will get out for a run, and the four adults will sit up late, watch TV and talk.

We left for the times like a recent Sunday when family gathered for a game night at our nephew's home that included so much laughter and smiles.

A friend, when I commented about missing Hawaii's climate, recently told me this: People live in Coeur d'Alene despite the weather. It's a beautiful place.

And if ever I needed assurance we made the right decision to come home, Beau provided it.

As I was rocking him, he began to wake up. He turned his head, opened his eyes, used his arms to push himself back and looked up to see who was holding him.

He saw it was me. He stared for a few seconds. Then, he closed his eyes, put his head back on my shoulder and went back to sleep.

Bill Buley is a reporter with The Press. He can be reached at [email protected].