I’m 65, and I just hope I find real joy before I die. Not the kind you have to fake, but the kind that radiates through you and touches everyone around you.
Life has gone by so fast. I did what I was supposed to do — worked hard, took care of others, survived the hard years. But somewhere along the way, I forgot how to feel happy just to be alive.
My friendships have ended painfully, my marriage ended, and my kids have kids of their own now. I’m not sure how to process it all.
Still, I’m learning to slow down, to notice the small things. Maybe joy doesn’t always come in big, dramatic moments. Maybe it’s something you build quietly. I don’t know for sure — but I’m not giving up on finding it.
— Roberta, 65, Cleveland, OH
