Dear Reader,

I adore traveling! Unfortunately, my husband and traveling partner, George, does not share my enthusiasm and would avoid all airplanes and airports. Nevertheless, he agreed to go to Hawaii and promised a minimum of complaints. After ten hours of flying and traipsing through three airports, we had arrived. "My backside feels like an airplane seat," George remarked. I disregarded his complaint because I eagerly anticipated new and novel adventures and breathtaking sights.

Our quaint, rather remote, inn rested at the foot of lush, verdant mountains. In this serene setting, a host of roosters in various sizes and colors greeted us. As we waded through the roosters to our room, we heard, "Cock a doodle doo," as the roosters crowed and echoed each other. We hoped they were giving us a hearty welcome, but we thought it odd that we heard this rooster talk at 5 PM. Roosters crowed at daybreak or so we thought. Perhaps Hawaiian roosters needed alarm clocks! We wondered if our stay here would be ruled by roosters.

Being weary travelers, we chose to grab dinner at a nearby supermarket, dine on our lanai, and call it a day. Our lanai door jammed forcing us to exit our front door. As we did, we noticed two cats following us. How amusing we thought. Upon our sitting down, those brazen cats immediately leaped on our laps eyeing our food. As we removed them, cats three and four appeared at our feet. Then cats five and six crept to our table. While trying to control the cats, a flock of roosters arrived waiting to pounce on our food. Dinner became a battle and it continued as two peacocks sauntered up with their beaks flush with the table drooling for our dinner. What an audience! We had never been cozy with peacocks and we felt nervous. Would they attack? With six cats, oodles of roosters, and two peacocks gazing hungrily at us, we surrendered! Hurriedly, we bagged our food and scurried inside followed by an animal parade strutting behind us.

The inn served breakfast outside with tables scattered over the grounds. Roosters and peacocks roamed the area seeking food to snatch. Might be trouble, we thought. Soon a gutsy rooster hopped atop our table and plunged his beak into my freshly buttered croissant. He and his friends inhaled it! We observed a peacock boldly snitch a bagel from another table and flee to his peacock buddies who devoured it instantly. These peacocks marched to the table and stared at us with their glassy eyes giving me goosebumps and irritating George. Would they get vicious? With these daredevils around, we learned to guard our plates like valuable gemstones. The saga of the thieving birds continued for the next few days.

One morning, the manager appeared armed with a gun–a water gun! He persuaded a young girl to squirt the birds. She went into attack mode and blasted away. "Ka-pow, bang, ka-pow," she hollered as she ran around spraying the critters. The birds ran helter-skelter away from the diners. Magically, we saw no birds. Not one. The atmosphere became peaceful and serene. George smiled, but I missed the conflict!

Regrettably, the day of our departure arrived and I heard George mumbling about hating airports. I ignored him and left to return our keys. I felt heavyhearted. Two roosters followed me and I imagined them bidding me farewell and telling me they would miss me. During our visit, I had grown accustomed to roosters crowing at odd hours and found it comforting. I got a warm feeling seeing cats curled up outside our door. The peacocks seemed awesome, but frightening. These critters provided me with some novel adventures I craved. With sadness nipping at my heart, we did what birds do, we flew home still relishing the delightful memories of roosters, peacocks, and cats.

– Connie Blocker

Dear Reader,

The Written Word

Rejection after rejection of my written word

Made me wonder why I should keep writing

No one ever reads what I write

It is not going to garner a million views

Or going to make a difference in someone’s life

Then I thought about the flowers that bloom

They open their buds and blossom

No matter what

They don’t care if they are going to end up

In a bouquet for a funeral or a corsage for a wedding

They may be pollinated by bees and butterflies

Or be eaten by insects and animals

They may end up as perfumes in bottles

As scented lotions and herbal teas

Or as pressed flowers in someone’s notebook

Some just wither and fall

Without ever being put to any good use

Yet they blossom day after day

Not caring what they become

They just bloom and blossom

Because that’s what they are supposed to do

I had my aha moment

I should just keep writing

Whether or not it gets accepted

Or gets published in prestigious journals

Because writing is what I am supposed to do

That is my purpose. My destiny.

– Jayashree Sitaraman

Dear Reader,

I Didn't Notice

I did not notice I was getting old until I stopped rushing.

I may have looked older but that was not the giveaway. It was the way I slowed down and started to notice the small things in life. I used to have to rush through life as if my house was on fire, feed, clothe, drive, and listen to all those that needed me. From the smallest of babes to the oldest of parents. Now, I sit with the laundry in my lap and think about the quietness and those small clothes that once graced my lap. I think about all the stories that I will never hear because getting to the next thing was more important.

Getting old is not a single moment; it is a compilation of moments leading up to the present moment. The good, bad and all the routines that make up an ordinary day. I used to chase time as if it owed me something. I filled my calendar with tasks, my shelves with trophies, and my mind with plans. Now, I fill my pockets with tissues and peppermints and forget why I walked into the kitchen. However, I also notice things I never had time for before: the birds on the trees, the sounds of the appliances, the softness in my grandchild’s voice when she says, “Tell me a story.”

Getting old is not a punishment. It is a permission slip. To linger. To listen. To sit with a cup of tea until it cools. To reread a book. To watch the butterfly land before it flits away.

I feel things more fully now. I cry more easily, laugh more freely, and forgive more quickly. I have stopped trying to be impressive. I would rather be kind. I have stopped chasing perfection. I would rather be present. Present in all the moments of all aspects of my life.

Getting old is not about slowing down because you have to. It is about slowing down because you want to. Because you have finally realized that rushing never made the moments sweeter—it only made them shorter.

So I move through my days as I am walking through a garden. I stop often. I notice things. I let time unfold like petals. In addition, I think: this is what living feels like.

– Jacque Stengel