A Regular Day That Feels Like Mine
But today, I chose to focus on what’s here. Not what’s out there. Just here.
The sunlight slipped in through the curtain like it always does, soft and steady. I lay there for a moment and thanked the bed for holding me, the fan for being loyal through every season, and my breath for showing up again, without being asked.
I got up and made my bed. That’s how I like to begin—a small act of putting something in order.
I lit a stick of incense in the corner and did a few stretches while my dog stared at me like I was performing a circus trick. I’m not consistent with yoga, but I try to move a little. Sometimes I dance instead. This morning, I did both.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and smiled at my reflection. It wasn’t a big smile, just enough to say, “We’re okay, aren’t we?”
After that, I walked my pets. There is something so grounding about that walk. The way they sniff every tree like it holds secrets. The way they remind me to slow down. To pause.
On the way back, I picked up a few vegetables from the market. The shopkeeper threw in a free lemon, like always. We smiled, no extra words exchanged. That felt warm.
Back home, I made myself poha with peanuts and a little extra lime. I sat by the window while eating, with no phone, just the sound of the street outside. Somewhere, someone was playing old Hindi songs. It felt like a small hug.
I watched half an episode of something silly before heading to work. I laughed at a joke that wasn’t even that funny. But it made me feel light. It reminded me that laughter doesn’t need a reason.
The rest of the day will be busy. Work, meetings, deadlines, messages I haven’t responded to. But somehow, I feel full.
Not because anything extraordinary happened. But because I noticed the ordinary. I gave it my attention. I let it be enough.
I am not writing this to say everything in my life is sorted. It is not. I still get overwhelmed. I still cry sometimes while chopping onions. I still scroll mindlessly when I should be sleeping. I still feel lonely on Sundays.
But I am learning that happiness is not a grand arrival. It is a familiar cup of tea. A well-watered plant. A silly dance in your living room. A grocery run where someone remembers your name.
It is the way your dog looks at you like you are their whole world. The way the afternoon light hits your floor. The way your body forgives you every day and keeps going.
If you’re reading this, maybe you needed a reminder too.
That your life, as ordinary as it may seem, is yours. It is happening right now. And there is so much in it worth noticing.
Not everything has to make sense. Not everything has to be perfect. But there is always something to smile about, if we just pause long enough to see it.
If today feels quiet, allow it to be.
If it feels a little messy, it is still your day, and that is enough.
Life does not always have to be extraordinary to matter.
Sometimes, the most beautiful days are the ones that pass gently, without needing to prove anything.
