By Dylan Manderlink the steam from my cracked, thrift-store find mug clouds the mountains as I wonder who buys these #1 Dad mugs earnestly. I stay cocooned in my sleeping bag with tent doors wide open welcoming the unwelcoming cold of the morning. I like these mornings on my own and I know I’ll miss this nomadic living. I look down at my coffee, the swirls of brown and white, the steam warms my face. No one knows this is what my mornings look like. They’re just mine. I share them with the mountains and the coffee. The constants in the chaos. I’ll miss these mornings.

By Deb Codding “Did your life turn out the way you thought it would, Grandma?” the young man asked.  The old woman looked into her Grandson’s eyes and whispered, “Life rarely turns out the way you think it will sweetie–it turns out the way it should.  Don’t wait for your life to be the way you imagine it should be.  Live your life the way that makes you happy at the time.  Waiting is for fools.  Living is for the rest of us.”  As her Grandson kissed her cheek, she closed her eyes and went over the rainbow.

By Jen Erickson I’m aware we may not see eye-to-eye. I understand my passion, or lack thereof, can be intense and infuriating. I am unlearning old ways of thinking and habits while acquiring new ways of understanding the world and people. We need not be good friends, but I trust if we are civil, operate through a lens of love and justice, we can sit at the same table. The table is long and there are empty seats beside my own. You may sit next to me. I have a lot to say, but please go first. I’m listening. 

By Laura Ditto If I were a bear, I’d ravage through your camp, I’d eat all the delicious food and up the hills I’d scamp. Mountains would be small if I were a bear. I’d wander through the tundra— adventure without care. I would nestle in the woods and eat the mighty fish. If I were a bear, the world would be my dish. Rain would be no problem. All weather would be fair. My thick coat would keep me warm if I were a bear.