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Romancing the Ordinary: Finding Everyday Joy

Romancing the Ordinary: Finding Everyday Joy

By a Woman Who Finally Gets It in Her 50s

Growing up, my mom had a sparkle about her. She wasn't flashy or loud—just full of quiet wisdom and a gentle joy that found its way into everything. She always said, "Celebrate the holidays, yes—but don't forget to celebrate the in-between." At the time, I thought she meant baking heart-shaped cookies in February or stringing pastel lights for Easter. But now, in my 50s, I finally understand: she meant celebrating life itself—the soft, sacred rhythm of the everyday.

One of my favorite memories is watching her flip through this dreamy lifestyle magazine she subscribed to every season. It was overflowing with inspiration—pages and pages of candlelit rooms, floral tea cups, soft chairs draped in knit blankets, and little notes of encouragement tucked between recipes and garden tips. It wasn't just décor—it was a mood, a permission slip to pause and romance the ordinary.

She would dog-ear the pages and murmur, "Wouldn't it be lovely to make a little corner like this by the window?" Then, she would. She'd find a chair from the basement, throw a blanket over it, set out a little tray with a candle and a jar of honey, and call it her 'cozy spot.' She made charm out of nothing.

Back then, I thought it was just… something moms did. Now? I see it for what it was: soul care.

These days, as the world spins faster and my to-do lists stretch longer, I crave those little cozy corners. I find myself making tea in a favorite mug that fits just right in my hands. I light candles—not for company, just for me. I throw a blanket over the back of the couch, not because it matches, but because it reminds me of slow Sunday mornings. I open the window to let in the birdsong while I sip coffee, and I pause long enough to really listen.

And somehow, those simple things are the moments that ground me. They bring joy—not the big, glittery, over-the-top kind—but the gentle kind that whispers, you're home, you're safe, this is enough.

Spring makes it easier. The light shifts just a little in the morning, the tulips breaking through the soil like they've got something to prove. The birds singing their hearts out with zero concern for who's listening. It reminds me to bloom, even if it's slowly. To sing, even if it's just to the dog.

There's power in that kind of slow beauty.

So, I've started leaning into what I call "everyday joy." It's not about buying more or doing more. It's about paying attention to the little things and letting them matter. Like the way a fresh lemon smells when you slice it. Or how satisfying it is to fluff a pillow just right. Or putting a book down on your lap, looking out the window, and saying to yourself, this moment is enough.

I've also begun to 'romance' the tasks I used to dread. Folding laundry becomes an act of love when I pair socks while watching the sun melt through the blinds. Cooking dinner turns into a dance when music is playing and I let myself swirl around the kitchen. Even sweeping the floor can feel oddly satisfying when I pause to admire the clean lines after.

My mom was right. Life isn't just about the big milestones or the "special" days marked on the calendar. It's about finding beauty in what's already here. It's about taking the time to make a house feel like a home—with soft lighting, cozy textures, and little joyful things that make you want to nestle in.

If you're anything like me, maybe you've spent years rushing, striving, doing for others—and maybe now, it's time to do something for you.

So go ahead: make a cozy little nook. Hang that floral print you love even if it doesn't match anything. Wrap yourself in that ridiculous fuzzy blanket. Pour the tea, light the candle, open the window.

Romance the ordinary.

It's where the absolute joy lives.