So I was digging through a dusty old box at my parents’ house, half-looking for my old high school yearbook, when I found this photo of me—maybe four or five years old, rocking a striped shirt and a bowl cut that should honestly be illegal. I’m holding up some brand new action figure like I just won the lottery, mouth wide open in that goofy “look what I got!” face only little kids do.
Honestly, the nostalgia hit way harder than I expected. It was all there—the chaos of birthday wrapping paper, the plastic smell of a fresh toy, that feeling that everything in the world was exciting and possible. I probably spent the rest of that day setting up little battles on the carpet, totally lost in my own head, not caring about anything except which hero would win.
And man, what happened to us? Somewhere along the line, we all traded that wide-eyed excitement for bills and emails and worrying about what everyone thinks. I can’t even remember the last time I woke up feeling as excited as I looked in that picture, just to be alive and see what the day would bring.
So now I can’t stop thinking about it. That picture keeps coming back to me in little flashes—like it’s trying to tell me something I’ve forgotten. That little version of myself, grinning ear to ear over the simplest thing, that kid who woke up every day with a sense of wonder, like anything was possible. When was the last time I felt like that?
I think a lot of us lose that as we grow up, right? We get caught up in the grind, chasing goals, meeting deadlines, worrying about bills and mortgages, always thinking about what’s next. And somewhere in all that hustle, we forget how to feel excited about just being. We stop celebrating the small victories and instead only focus on the big ones—like getting promoted, or buying a house, or landing that dream job.
But here’s the thing I’ve realized lately: life is made up of those small moments. Those little victories. When I looked at that picture of me with my toy action figure, I remembered how easy it was to be happy with nothing but a new toy and a huge imagination. It didn’t matter what other people thought, or what kind of car I drove, or what my job title was. The joy was in the moment.
And so, I started thinking—what if we could get back to that? What if we all lived like that again, where the little things matter, and where we could get excited about the simple joys in life?
I decided to give it a shot. I wasn’t sure how it would go, or what would happen, but I was determined to try. So the next morning, I woke up early—just like I used to, when I was little and excited to face the day. No snooze button. No checking emails. No scrolling through my phone first thing. I just got up, opened the window, and let the fresh air in, just like I used to before life became full of responsibilities and stress.
It felt good. Really good.
I went for a walk, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have an agenda. I didn’t have a list of things to do or places to be. I was just there—walking, breathing, taking in the sights and sounds around me. I noticed the way the sun hit the sidewalk, casting little shadows of the trees, and the way the birds seemed to be chirping just a little louder that day.
It felt like I was present—and that was something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Just being there, instead of thinking about what I had to do or where I had to go next. It was like that childlike wonder had come back, and I didn’t have to wait for big, life-changing moments to feel it. It was right in front of me, in the small, everyday things.
And that’s when I realized how much we’ve all been missing.
We’ve been so focused on the future, on all the things we have to do and achieve, that we’ve forgotten how to appreciate the now. The way the light falls on your kitchen table at breakfast, the sound of your favorite song playing on the radio, the taste of a good cup of coffee.
So I started making a list—a list of all the little things that I could find joy in. Every morning, I wrote down at least one thing that made me smile or feel grateful. Some days it was as simple as noticing the beautiful flowers blooming in the park, or the way a friend’s laugh made me feel lighter. Other days, it was the excitement of cooking a meal from scratch and sitting down to eat it without feeling rushed.
The more I focused on these small moments, the more I realized how many of them I had been missing. How many of them had slipped by unnoticed while I was busy chasing after something bigger.
And then, a couple of weeks later, something happened. I got a call from my old college roommate, Sarah. We hadn’t spoken in a while—life had gotten in the way, as it often does. But when I picked up the phone, I heard her voice, and instantly, everything felt easier. We talked for hours, just about life, about what we were doing now, and about how much things had changed since we were in school.
And somewhere in that conversation, Sarah said something that really stuck with me.
“Isn’t it crazy how we used to spend hours talking about what we wanted to do in life—what our dreams were? But now, we’re just… doing stuff. Going through the motions.”
It was like a lightbulb went off in my head. She was so right. We had spent so much time dreaming and talking about the future, but now, we were just living it, without taking the time to enjoy it or remember why we were doing it in the first place.
So I told her about my little experiment—about trying to live like I was a kid again, enjoying the small things. And she laughed, but I could hear the recognition in her voice. She was getting it too.
From that point on, we started making a point to reconnect. To talk not just about the big things, but about the little things that made us happy, that brought us joy. And it didn’t have to be anything monumental. Sometimes it was as simple as texting each other a picture of a sunset or sharing a funny meme. Other times, it was making time to catch up over coffee, not because we had to, but because it made us feel good.
And as I started making more of an effort to live in the moment, I realized something else—I wasn’t just feeling more connected to my friends and family, but I was also feeling more connected to myself. It was like I had been so busy being busy that I had forgotten what it felt like to truly enjoy the present, to truly be grateful for where I was.
That’s when I decided to do something I hadn’t planned on doing. I reached out to Aaron, a guy I’d known years ago—someone who had always been a bit of a mess. We’d lost touch after some tough times in his life, and I had walked away because I didn’t know how to help him. But as I reflected on all the small moments that had made me feel more connected to others, I realized that maybe he needed some of that too.
So I sent him a message, asking how he was doing, offering support. And honestly, I wasn’t expecting much in return. But to my surprise, he opened up. He told me how he had been struggling, but that he’d been working on getting his life together—starting with small steps, just like I had. He thanked me for reaching out, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was doing something right.
And that’s when the karmic twist hit me. Because Aaron reached out to a few old friends of his, and they, in turn, helped me find a freelance job I’d been looking for. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make a difference. Enough to help me pay off some bills and take a breath for once. It wasn’t just luck—it was the result of reconnecting, of reaching out, of being open to the simple acts of kindness that had been waiting for me to notice.
The lesson here is simple but important: life isn’t about the big, flashy milestones. It’s about the small moments—the little connections we make, the simple joys we experience, and the way we show up for the people we care about. And sometimes, those moments come back to us in the most unexpected ways.
So, if you’re reading this, take a moment today to appreciate something small—something simple. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just notice the little things, and I promise, you’ll find more joy in your life than you ever thought possible.
If this story resonated with you, please share it with someone who might need a little reminder to slow down and enjoy the moment.
