Life is a whirlwind of activities that are barely noticed as they are happening and barely remembered after they’re over. It’s a pace that we keep up, not because we want to, but often feel we have to.

Time passes and miracles come and go. There’s a certain beauty that comes with time—one you can’t see in the rush of your 20s or even the steady climb of your 40s.

It’s a beauty that sneaks up quietly, like the first light of morning. Somewhere along the way, we learn that taking a breath isn’t giving up—it’s waking up.

For most of our lives, we’ve been running on a schedule. Work deadlines, raising kids, balancing bills, chasing dreams. Life moved fast, and we matched its pace.

But now, with a little more room to breathe, we start to notice things we once rushed past; the color of the sunset, the way a child’s (or a grandchild’s) laugh fills a room, or the simple joy of a quiet morning coffee.

I think of these times when I see the stack of things in the “in” bin are far higher than those in the “out” bin and deadlines looming. I’d love to take that break but know I can’t if I want to get done all that needs to get done.

And then it hits me.

I remember that happiness doesn’t come from how much we do, but from how deeply we live. I’ve started choosing moments over milestones—phone calls with old friends, afternoon walks with the Banana Pepper, and family dinners filled with laughter.

Many people think of growing older as losing something, but the truth is, we gain so much. We gain clarity.

We gain wisdom that can only come from weathering storms. We gain the courage to be unapologetically ourselves, to say no when we mean no, and yes when it matters most.

So here’s to taking a breath. To the laughter that takes its time. To the memories we’re still making.

And to the quiet joy of realizing that every chapter of life, even this one, has its own beautiful rhythm.