Blissful Mornings - Where the Plumeria Falls

The warm breeze carried the scent of salt and earth as it whispered through the lush sanctuary in Puna. Here, where ancient banyan trees stretched their limbs toward the sky, and ferns danced beneath the filtered sunlight, Lani found refuge. The sanctuary had been her home for many years—a place where the past could not weigh too heavily and the present invited her to listen deeply.

Lani had come to this land seeking something she could not name. She had lost her family long ago—not to tragedy, but to time, to distance, to the quiet unraveling of ties that once felt unbreakable. At first, she had wandered through life with an ache she could not soothe, but Puna had a way of speaking to hearts like hers.

She tended the land with devotion, her hands pressing into the soil as if searching for something sacred buried within it. And in return, the land whispered back. Not in words, but in the flickering of butterfly wings, in the gentle nudge of a turtle on the shore, in the watchful gaze of a bird perched just close enough to feel like an old friend.

One morning, as the golden sun painted the ocean’s edge, Lani walked barefoot through the garden of plumeria trees that surrounded the sanctuary. The trees, full of white and pink blossoms, carried a fragrance that reminded her of her mother’s embrace—soft, lingering, familiar.

She reached up, plucking a single plumeria, holding it against her palm.

“I miss you,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure to whom.

A warm breeze stirred the branches, and at that moment, a monarch butterfly landed gently on her shoulder. Lani smiled. Butterflies had always been her mother’s favorite.

Then, as if called by her thoughts, a sea turtle emerged from the nearby lagoon, its slow, steady movement reminding her of the patient wisdom of her grandfather.

And high above, a lone mynah bird let out a sound that echoed in the air, strikingly familiar—her brother’s laughter.

Lani closed her eyes, her heart swelling with something she hadn’t felt in years. She had long believed her family was lost to her, but in that moment, she understood something profound: love never truly disappears. It only transforms, finding new ways to reach us.

Perhaps her mother had always been there, carried on the wings of butterflies.

Perhaps her grandfather had never left, watching over her through the slow, knowing gaze of the sea turtle.

Perhaps her brother’s laughter had never ceased, only now sung by the birds that welcomed each sunrise.

She placed the plumeria behind her ear, a silent acknowledgment, a quiet offering.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not in sorrow, but in gratitude.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of plumeria through the air. And Lani, standing amidst the sanctuary that had become her chosen home, felt no longer alone.

For love—when combined with imagination—had the power to weave lost things back into the fabric of the present.

And in that moment, surrounded by nature’s quiet embrace, she knew: she was home.

-Bliss Chains Authors