I tell myself every time — "This year, I won’t cry." But I always do. Something about the Olympic opening ceremony undoes me in the most beautiful way. Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the pageantry. Maybe it’s the idea that, for once, every country in the world is walking together. When the athletes enter the stadium, one nation at a

I was seven years old the first time I watched the Olympics. I didn’t know the rules. I didn’t know the countries. I just knew that something important was happening. My parents were sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the screen. The sound of the national anthem played. A woman stood on a podium, crying, gold medal around her neck. I remembe

We write things we never send. Messages we type and delete. Letters we fold and keep. Thoughts we carry but never say aloud. These are the quiet stories of our lives — unseen, but deeply felt. There’s a text you almost sent last week. “Just thinking of you.” You deleted it. There’s a message saved in your notes app. To someone who mean

Most of life doesn’t happen in the big events. It happens between them — in the grocery aisles, the hallway glances, the way sunlight falls across the floor. We live between the lines. And that’s where meaning often hides. You write lists. Grocery items, to-dos, things to buy, things to become. But it’s not the lists that shape you — i

Rainy days slow everything down. They mute the world, soften the light, and pull our attention inward. And somehow, they bring memories we didn’t ask for — and maybe needed to feel again. You wake to the sound of soft tapping on the window. The sky is grey, the air cool, the world quiet. You move slower — not because you’re tired, but be