Learn To Be Happy Alone
It was a season not of loss but of renewal, a chance to rediscover the beauty of my own company. Time to be still. Time to breathe. Time to just be.
Yesterday, I sat at a corner table in a charming café near my home, sipping a deliciously hot café latte and watching the world go by.
The world outside the window wore winter’s finest, a soft white, snowy veil that made everything look so pure, clean, and peaceful. Yet, beneath the beauty, my heart felt the weight of the season, heavy and full.
A sort of sadness hung over me as I reflected on life, on the many friends who had passed on so young, on my family, my grandchildren, and more so, on my aloneness. Why, when people reach a certain age, they are doing life alone – it’s a phenomenon that seems to be happening everywhere.
I spent my Christmas in the company of silence. The New Year had tiptoed in without celebration; even my birthday had passed, a solitary candle glowing for no one but me.
My family, so loved and needed, were busy living their own stories, as they should be. Still, the ache pressed against my chest, and I fought to hold back tears. My heart felt tender, bruised by the absence of shared moments.
But then, as if the universe had heard my silent plea, something magical happened. Across the street, in the middle of the snow-draped road, a little cat danced.
She was a vision—soft, silvery grey fur against the white world, just leaping and twirling around as if the snowflakes were her partners. She jumped high, paws outstretched, trying to catch each flake as it drifted down. Around and around she spun, joy radiating from every bounce, completely lost in her world. She didn’t care who watched and didn’t worry if anyone joined her. She simply danced, and in her dance, I saw freedom.
In that moment, as I watched her, something inside me shifted. I realized I needed to find joy in my own company, to learn to dance in my aloneness.
For so much of my life, I had poured myself into others—giving, nurturing, fixing, and doing. I had been so busy filling others' cups that I hadn’t noticed mine had run dry.
But now, I realized something: Life was offering me this time, this space—to sit still, to breathe deeply, to just be. It was a season not of loss but of renewal, a chance to rediscover the beauty of my own company.
Thank you, sweet dancing cat. You were more than just a fleeting moment of joy—you were a reminder that happiness isn’t always found in the company of others. Sometimes, it lives in the quiet, in the snowflakes, in the gentle dance of a soul unafraid to find joy, even when no one else is watching.
It also reminded me to just be, to revel in the moments, to embrace this time in my life.
Have you felt like this? What has your journey been? Share with me in the comments below.
Aging Well
Movement Is Medicine
Dr. Vonda Wright, MD, has the most impactful, hopeful message for our aging bodies that I have ever heard.
Guys, I couldn’t stop listening to this interview. I watched the whole thing; it was fascinating and taught me so much. What an incredible interview by Mel Robbins. You need to take to heart everything she has to say. Trust me, you won’t regret watching this.
Dr. Wright opened up her statement by saying the following, and I was hooked: “You do not have to be the victim of the passage of time and become frail...” Watch the whole thing, ladies; it’s a hopeful message indeed.
Wisdom to Live By
Spend time in nature — it’s scientifically proven to reduce stress and improve your mood. Take a walk in the park, breathe in fresh air, and let nature recharge you.
Good Eats to Make
I made this last night, and after one bite of this vibrant, velvety beet hummus, plain hummus is history—because when food looks this stunning, it has to taste amazing.
MAKE THIS VELVETY BEET HUMUS - CLICK HERE
Featured Section
A Grandma for the World
“The world would be a better place if we all had a grandma’s love.” ❤️ #EveryoneNeedsAGrandma
*** Share your “Everyone Needs a Grandma” stories. Reply to this email.
Quotable
“Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain.” -Nana.