Read by Matilda Longbottom

“Is it real? Can I touch it?” my kindergarten students eagerly asked, their eyes wide with curiosity. I had just returned from Maui, clutching a fragrant lei that I had carefully protected during the 12-hour flight back to Philly. Seeing my determination, an airline attendant provided me with an ice pack and a Styrofoam box to preserve it. I cradled that lei as if it were a newborn, eager to share a piece of Hawaii with my students the very next day. And yes, they could touch it and proudly parade it around the school.

When I thought of Hawaii, images of Tom Selleck, sandy beaches, swaying palm trees, coconuts, pineapples, macadamia nuts, and hula dancers filled my mind. I expected all that when we landed in Maui (minus Tom). Like most tourists, I assumed a customary lei would greet me—but alas, that tradition was reserved for charters, and usually, it was just boring orchids. What I didn’t expect was the abundance of tropical flowers everywhere, each more stunning than the last, and I didn’t even know their names.

Birds of paradise lined house lawns—not the sad, wilted kind you find at supermarket floral booths, but vibrant, fully bloomed beauties that truly resemble birds, all for just a dollar each. Plumeria flowers, also known as frangipani, adorned the paths to our condo, their various hues of yellow, white, pink, and red releasing a coconut-lemon scent that filled the air. I learned that frangipani was introduced to Hawaii by a German botanist in 1860 and that its meaning encompassed charm, grace, new life, and new beginnings.

The locals proudly showed me ginger, lantern ilima, and tuberose, among others. As we explored the waterfalls and trails leading to volcanoes, I began to feel something deeper—a reverence for the land, unspoken yet understood. The Aloha Spirit Law commanded one simple thing: never to harm, always to love—a manifestation of divine energy. You wouldn’t dare toss a toothpick out the car window, not out of fear of a littering fine, but out of respect.

But where to find the perfect lei? To my delight, I discovered a flower case full of the most exquisite leis while grocery shopping. I bought six, one for each of us, regardless of the cost. After all, we were in Paradise, and who knew if we’d ever return? The coolness of the lei around my neck, the soft, waxy petals of the plumeria, and the scent of coconut and peaches transported me. I was in Paradise. The little girl who remembered when Hawaii became a state was here, standing under the stars in sheer amazement. While my family snorkeled, scuba-dived, and sunbathed, I felt more connected to the nature surrounding me. I found joy in sitting by tide pools encased in volcanic ash, marveling at the ribbons of colors in the ocean, the tropical fish of every hue, and the mountains dipping into the surf. Our lanai felt like a cloud in heaven, with whispering winds, mesmerizing cloud formations, and the soft rain tapping on bougainvillea hedges. And the birds! Every color, every chirp. I didn’t need to “go” anywhere—I just needed to “be.”

During Mass, I was moved to tears when I saw the statue of Jesus carved from Hawaiian koa wood, with a simple burlap cloth draped around his waist. But what touched me even more was the Madonna statue, covered in floral leis, a tribute to her love and the love she received. Years later, on my birthday, my son Patrick sent me a lei from Hawaii. The lei itself cost less than the shipping, but when I opened the box, peeled back the wax paper, and inhaled the fragrance of aloha, I knew this was more than just a gift—it was a piece of paradise delivered to my doorstep.

Hawaii remains in my heart and soul. When I see plastic bottles and bags littering the roadsides across the USA, I can’t help but wonder why our great land can’t foster the same respect, care, and preservation that the Aloha Spirit embodies. ❖

About the Author: Hannah Dougherty Campbell, a spirited wordsmith with a heart as lush as her garden, hails from the suburbs of Philadelphia. Inspired by the beauty of nature and the resilience of the human spirit, Hannah found solace and creativity in crafting heartfelt poetry. With a background in teaching and a passion for nurturing creativity, she imparts her wisdom through her creative-writing classes, where she encourages others to explore the depths of their souls through the written word. Her cherished tradition of assigning flowers to personalities has blossomed into a family heirloom, enriching the lives of her loved ones and students alike. Through her work, she reminds us all of the delicate dance between nature and humanity, where every petal tells a story and every soul blooms in its own unique way.