Life has taught me that true joy isn't about chasing rainbows - it's about learning to see the colors in rain puddles. It's about finding wonder in the spaces between seconds, magic in the mundane, miracles in Monday mornings.
I've discovered joy hiding in the most peculiar places - in the mismatched socks I accidentally wore to work, in the way my neighbor's cat always seems to wink at me, in the perfect spiral of steam rising from a bowl of soup on a cold day. These aren't coincidences; they're little reminders that life is winking back at us.
Yesterday, I caught myself smiling at the way leaves danced in circles on the sidewalk, like tiny performers putting on a show just for me. A child nearby pointed and laughed, and for a moment, we shared the same wavelength of wonder. That's when it hit me - maybe joy isn't something we find, but something we remember how to see.
Remember when everything was fascinating? When puddles were oceans, cardboard boxes were spaceships, and every dandelion held a thousand wishes? That kind of joy never really left us. We just forgot to look through those magic-tinted glasses we all wore as children.
The world tries to tell us that happiness is something to achieve, like a destination on a map. But I'm learning that it's more like music - it's not about reaching the end of the song, but about dancing while it plays. It's in the squeaky step on your staircase that somehow plays the exact note of your favorite tune. It's in the way your plants lean toward the light, performing their slow, graceful ballet day after day.
Sometimes joy comes disguised as ordinary moments - like when you're doing the dishes and suddenly notice how rainbow bubbles form and pop, each one a tiny universe that exists for just a second. Or when you catch yourself humming a song you don't remember learning, your body remembering a happiness your mind forgot.
I'm collecting these moments like invisible photographs - the way morning light creates patterns on my wall, how the city sounds different just before it rains, the satisfying click of the last puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place. None of them cost anything, yet they make me feel like the richest person alive.
And maybe that's the greatest joy of all - realizing that happiness isn't something we chase but something we notice, not something we find but something we tune into, like catching a favorite song on the radio and turning up the volume just because we can.
