We often say, “It’s the little things that matter,” “we should appreciate the little things,” yet we rarely stop to notice them. The truth is, those small, ordinary moments, the ones that seem so easy, so natural, are what make life meaningful. We overlook them because they come effortlessly. Until one day, they don’t.
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Think about it.
We don’t pay attention to something as simple as a sneeze or a yawn until a cold makes breathing a chore. We never think about blinking until a speck of dust gets in our eye or an infection makes every blink feel like fire. These small, automatic acts seem so unimportant until they’re gone.
I learned this lesson the hard way.
There was a time I had to stay in bed for weeks. Getting up was a victory. Sitting felt like climbing a mountain. The first time I managed to sit for five whole seconds, I was trembling and sweating as though I had carried a bag of cement. Five seconds never felt so long, or so triumphant.
I had to relearn the basics.
How to rise from a chair. How to climb the stairs, slowly and clumsily, like a toddler taking careful steps. Even things you’d never imagine having to “learn” again: how to hold in pee, how to pass gas. I remember the nurses waiting, praying, hoping I’d finally pass gas. It sounds funny now, but in that moment, it was one of the hardest things to do.
After one surgery, I couldn’t stop sneezing. Each sneeze sent pain shooting through my stitches. My sister had to hold my sides tight every time it happened so I wouldn’t rip them open. I started to dread sneezing, a thing we all do dozens of times a day without thought.
Then came the first time I could finally sit up, turn my head, and look out the window. The sight of sunlight and trees felt like a gift. I watched for only a minute, but it filled me with more joy than I had felt in weeks. Before that, all I could see was the white ceiling and the patients on my right and left.
That was when I realized how much beauty we miss while we rush through life. We don’t notice the little things until they’re taken away, like how often we swallow until a sore throat makes it impossible. Or how precious a shower feels after months of not being able to take one. Even now, when the water touches my skin, I whisper, “Thank you for the gift of water.” Because I remember when I could only imagine it.
So, appreciate the little things.
The smile of a neighbor, a child’s laughter, the morning sunlight, the sound of wind brushing through leaves. The small arguments, the tiny gestures, the familiar voices, they all make up the texture of our lives. And one day, we will miss them.
When you draw your curtains in the morning, pause for a moment before rushing out. Take in the sunrise. Watch the sky change. Listen to the breeze. Feel it. Don’t be so busy that you can’t live.
Hug your children a little longer. Linger in the warmth of their laughter. These are the moments that pass quietly but hold everything that matters.
Finally, be thankful for all of it: the things you can do, the people around you, the air you breathe, the body that carries you. The things we take for granted are often the hardest to lose. So pause.
Look around.
Appreciate the little things.
Before you scroll away, pause and take a moment to notice one small thing you’re grateful for today. Write it in the comments, I’d love to read it.
