The Joy is in the Ordinary

The world feels heavy right now. The news cycle is basically one long doom scroll of heartbreak, disasters, and way-too-many headlines that make me mutter “are you kidding me?” at my phone. It’s a lot. It’s too much. And it can feel impossible to carry sometimes.

But here’s the thing: even when the big stuff feels unbearable, there are still these little cracks of light sneaking through. And if I’ve learned anything in this messy, midlife era of mine, it’s that the small things matter. So today, I’m taking a moment to name them out loud.

My Current Bright Spots

• Watching my kids try new things. Soccer cleats on one, karate belt on the other. It's a whole new season of practices, uniforms, and me cheering from the sidelines. Seeing them push themselves, get braver, and discover what they love makes my heart feel ten pounds lighter. (Also, let’s be honest, the sideline people-watching is top-tier entertainment.)

  
  

• Hanging on to summer. Yes, I love fall. Yes, I will happily drink a pumpkin spiced latte and cozy up in a cardigan. But am I ready to say goodbye to sunshine, sandals, and dinners eaten on the patio at 8 p.m.? Absolutely not. You will have to pry summer from my SPF-slathered hands.

  
  

• The job hunt. Still nothing official yet, but progress is happening. Conversations are being had, resumes are landing in the right places, and hope is alive. Cross your fingers, toes, and maybe even your eyes for me, please.

  
  

• Reading. A good book feels like magic, especially when it lets me slip into another world for a while. If I can sneak in a few chapters while waiting in the car line or before bed, it feels like I’ve won some secret prize for the day.

  
  

• Quiet. As much as I love my people, the silence of an empty house now that the kids are back in school is its own kind of therapy. Sometimes I sit in it for a few minutes just to soak it in. No TV, no music, no background noise. Just the sound of myself remembering I exist.

  
  

• New hobbies. I recently picked up cross-stitching, and after a couple of simple starter kits from Amazon, my grandmother decided to unleash her entire stash on me. We’re talking boxes of thread, piles of patterns, and enough fabric to keep me busy for the rest of my natural life.

Everyday Miracles We Forget About

Even if I can’t see them with my own eyes, I know these things are happening somewhere out there in the world, and just knowing they exist makes me feel better:

• We’re less than a month away from a new Taylor Swift album, which means we’ll all have fresh lyrics to cry, scream, or sing into our steering wheels.

• Someone is adopting a dog today, and that pup is about to find out what family means.

• Farmers’ markets are overflowing with end-of-season tomatoes and corn so sweet they taste like pure sunshine.

• Somewhere right now, a baby is taking their very first breath. That might be the purest miracle of all.

• People are falling in love on park benches, in checkout lines, and at bad karaoke nights.

• Strangers are doing small kindnesses, like holding doors, paying for coffees, letting someone merge in traffic without a horn honk.

  
  

Finding Beauty in the Small Things

And here’s the small, every day stuff I’m reminding myself to notice:

• The ordinary rituals. The way my coffee mug warms my hands every morning. The sound of the kids singing in the shower. The tip-tapping of my keyboard.

• The tiny luxuries. Fresh sheets, hot showers, the smell of garlic hitting olive oil in a pan.

• The sky. Sunrises that paint the horizon pink, sunsets that linger just a little longer, and clouds shaped like mashed potatoes.

• Nature’s cameos. Birds squabbling at the feeder, squirrels performing acrobatics, or the first star that shows up at dusk.

• The silly stuff. Memes that make me laugh too loudly, a perfect dad joke, or a random dance move in the kitchen.

• Moments of connection. A quick text from a friend, a wave from a neighbor, or sharing a smile with a stranger at the grocery store.

These aren’t grand or dramatic, but maybe that’s the point. They remind me that even when the world is heavy, there’s still light to be found. In soccer goals, in karate kicks, in late-summer breezes, and in the everyday beauty of being alive.

And for now, that’s enough.