My friend and hostess waited until she heard me stirring in her guest bedroom in the early hours of the morning. It would be a while yet before she would put the kettle up to boil and steep some Cota or other type of Native American herbal tea. She wanted to get my attention but didn’t want to wake me.

Having never been to New Mexico before, I knew I wanted to see some petroglyphs, visit Old Town, see some Route 66 signs as the famed tourist highway originates in in my hometown, Chicago, check out the Balloon Museum, and ring up the register at The Breaking Bad Store.

She caught me outside of the guest bathroom and placed her index finger to her lips, signaling me to be quiet and follow her. I don’t know if the request for quiet was out of respect for her neighbors, who might start their day later, or to instill some sort of reverence in me for what we were about to witness.

Wearing a black camisole and gray gym shorts, not any sort of certifiable sleepwear ensemble, I followed her outside where the whole world seemed hushed.

There, above the pueblo styled homes of her subdivision, three giant basketed balloons could be seen hovering low in the bright blue sky. The Balloon Fiesta, a popular October holiday in Albuquerque was months away, but balloons could often be spotted in early morning hours, crews already in place to help bring them in.

“They might be going to the golf course,” was the only commentary I heard my friend make.

I felt like I was floating, too. I looked for the full moon and a black sky full of stars the night before, which I couldn’t see, but this early morning flight of hot air balloons filled me with a sense of place. And magic —

I entertained various Wizard of Oz fantasies, but really, one thought kept coming back.

“You don’t see this every day.”

And, I’ve been with that thought often since landing back at O’Hare.

It seems that vacations are more than abundant with moments where you are confronted with sights that you might not get to see every day.

After all, you’re in a different city or country. But it also might have to do with your perceptions slowing down. Your tendency to slow down what you take in to a speed where you can notice more is why you went on vacation in the first place.

But I think we all have to learn to see more with our hearts than just with our eyes.

On a side trip to Santa Fe during my holiday to the southwest, I might have done a double take when I saw a purple-colored dragon painted on a locomotive parked at the local railyard. There was a reasonable explanation. It turned out to be owned by George R.R. Martin, one of the developers of Game of Thrones, who keeps a house around Santa Fe.

When I walked along the beach near San Sebastian some years ago, I saw an old-timey carousel. I might have wondered what it was doing so close to the water, but I let understanding the presence of this treasure go. It didn’t need to justify its existence. It’s uniqueness didn’t render it easy to dismiss.

Every day, we see things that we’re not likely to see every day, or, at least, didn’t see the day before.  Seeing with open eyes and open heart is EVERYTHING.

One of the unexpected joys of my recent trip was running into a woman taking an early morning walk. She was going in the opposite direction as me and my friend, also taking walks.

My age or a few years older, she wore an unusual pair of greenish shorts, a well-worn tee and a red derby-shaped hat, not an SPF blocking bonnet. She looked like a refugee from a New Year’s Eve party that might have happened during the sixties.

She slowed down to read my tee-shirt. I posed with my arms outstretched on both sides.. I wanted her to read  it. It said:

“I literally want my tax dollars to support national parks, science, education, conservation, mental health, and helping marginalized people, in case that wasn’t clear.”

We talked on the sidewalk for close to twenty minutes. She didn’t have a computer, She probably did not own a smart phone. She told stories about protests she participated in decades earlier  I realized I represented something she probably didn’t see every day. I liked the idea.

Everyone and everything deserves to be seen and heard. Slowing down actually increases our chance of seeing anything that matters. Sometimes we are the observer and sometimes we’re being observed.

Relishing these encounters when you’re in the moment and can see with your heart is no small thing.