“Pay attention to the things that feel like sunlight.” -Erin Hanson

My Interpretation: Joy is rarely loud. It is found in small, consistent moments that warm you from the inside out – the things that remind you, you are still capable of feeling softness even after everything.

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THE THINGS I LOVE THAT MAKE LIFE FEEL BEARABLE AGAIN

There are days when life feels too sharp.

Too heavy.

Too loud.

Too demanding.

Days where you are not breaking

but not exactly fully here, either.

Just surviving.

Just moving.

Just trying to make it through the hours

without your soul tapping out.

& then suddenly –

something small

something ordinary

something quiet

pulls you back into your own body.

A moment that feels like sunlight.

A reminder that joy still exists

even when the rest of your life feels like static.

I did not understand the importance of these things growing up.

I did not know softness could be a lifeline.

I did not know small joys could anchor an entire day.

I did not know love could live in the tiny details

instead of the dramatic ones.

But I know now.

I know because these things saved me

one exhausted, beautiful moment at a time.

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I LOVE WARM LIGHT IN THE MORNING

The way sunlight spills across the floor

like it has nowhere else to be.

The way it softens the room

& reminds you the world is not ending today.

Morning light feels like grace.

A slow undoing

of whatever the night tried to take from you.

It feels like permission to begin again.

Quietly.

Gently.

Without fanfare.

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I LOVE THE SOUND OF A HOUSE SETTLING AT NIGHT

The creaks

the clicks

the shifting of wood

the hum of appliances

all the tiny reminders that a home is alive

even when you feel still.

When I was younger

nighttime sounded like danger.

Like waiting.

Like bracing.

Now?

It sounds like safety.

Like stillness.

Like a life I built myself

brick by fucking brick.

Those small sounds remind me

that I am not alone in the dark anymore.

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I LOVE WHEN MY SON LAUGHS FROM HIS STOMACH

Real laughter.

Messy laughter.

The kind that comes out in bursts

like he is not strong enough to hold it in.

The kind that pulls me back into the moment

no matter what mood I was in

no matter how tired I am.

Hearing him laugh

feels like an entire childhood being rewritten.

Mine.

& his.

It is the sound of cycle-breaking in real time.

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I LOVE THE MOMENT THE CHAOS QUIETS

Not because everything is perfect.

But because something inside you finally exhales.

It is the end of the day

⤷ the house is a mess

⤷ dinner is crusting over on the stove

⤷ laundry is glaring at you from the corner

⤷ your hair is a war crime

⤷ your soul is tired

& somehow…

you feel peace anyway.

Not because you finished everything

but because you survived everything.

That is enough.

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I LOVE THE FIRST SIP OF A HOT DRINK

Coffee.

Tea.

Hot chocolate.

Whatever it is,

the first sip is always a tiny reset button.

It is warmth

meeting a cold place inside you.

It is a reminder

that your body deserves comfort

instead of adrenaline.

It is a slow, steady grounding

in a world that keeps you running.

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I LOVE MUSIC THAT FEELS LIKE IT WAS WRITTEN FOR ME

When a lyric hits the exact spot

where my chest tightens.

When a melody sounds like a memory.

When a song cracks open something

I did not realize I had buried.

That moment where you pause

mid-dish, mid-drive, mid-thought

& whisper,

“Oh. That is me.”

Music understands

what words sometimes fail to capture.

It holds you

when you do not know how to hold yourself.

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I LOVE THE FEELING OF CLEAN SHEETS AT THE END OF A LONG WEEK

There is nothing

— NOTHING —

as healing as slipping into a bed

that smells like detergent

& hope.

It feels like restarting your whole system.

Like giving your nervous system a soft place to collapse.

It feels like being taken care of

even when you are the one doing the taking care.

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I LOVE WHEN A MEMORY DOES NOT HURT ANYMORE

Healing is sneaky.

Sometimes you do not notice it happening

until one day

you remember something painful

& it does not stab you in the ribs anymore.

It just… lands.

Softly.

Gently.

Like a passing thought instead of a wound.

That moment feels like magic.

Like you finally stepped out of a story

you did not want to live in.

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I LOVE WHEN SOMEONE SEES ME WITHOUT ME HAVING TO EXPLAIN

It is rare.

But dear god

when it happens

it feels like being washed in warm light.

When someone says:

“I knew you were overwhelmed.”

“I could tell you needed help.”

“I noticed you shut down.”

“I knew that bothered you.”

“I remembered what you said last week.”

“I saved this for you because you like it.”

It feels like softness

finally coming back home to you.

Some people speak the language of noticing.

Those are your people.

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THE HEAD-TILT TRUTH

People will tilt their heads

when you talk about loving the small things.

They will say you are “easy to please.”

Or “boring now.”

Or “too soft.”

Or “too sentimental.”

Or “getting older.”

As if simplicity is not a blessing.

As if gentleness is not holy.

As if joy needs to be dramatic to matter.

Let them tilt.

Let them misunderstand.

Let them look for joy in fireworks

while you find it in lamplight.

The world is heavy enough.

Let the small things save you.

Let the quiet things soften you.

Let the ordinary things remind you

that the universe still wants you here.

Joy does not have to be loud

to be real.

Xoxo ♡