You know what I’ve realized lately? Starting over doesn’t always look like some grand reinvention. Sometimes, it looks like sitting on the back porch with a cup of coffee, watching the sun peek through the trees. It looks like laughing until I can’t breathe over a silly inside joke with Oscar. It’s realizing that joy doesn’t have to be earned—it can be felt, right now, right here, in the little things.
For so long, I lived in survival mode. I was doing what I had to do to get through the day. I was navigating grief, betrayal, heartbreak, and everything in between. There was barely room to breathe, let alone to enjoy. But lately, something’s been shifting. I’ve started noticing the soft, sweet moments that make this life feel good again.
Like how Jenny curls up next to me and sighs as if she’s saying, “I love you.” Or how Dolly still manages to make me laugh, even when she’s being a wild little tornado. These aren’t big, dramatic gestures—but they feel like love. They feel like peace. They feel like home.
Joy used to feel far away—like something reserved for when things got better. But what I’ve learned at 47 is this: waiting to feel joy is a trap. Life is happening right now. And if you’re always waiting for the perfect moment, you’ll miss the imperfect ones that make life rich and full.
So now, I’m choosing to soak it all in. I’m giving myself permission to laugh too loud, dance in the kitchen, plant new flowers, dream about the beach house, and listen to metalcore at full blast if that’s what lifts my spirit.
Starting over at 47 isn’t just about shedding the past. It’s about learning how to feel joy again—especially in the moments that once felt too small to notice.
And that, to me, is a quiet kind of freedom.
With joy and a full heart,
Aunty Christine 🫶🏻💜🤟🏻
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