A Quiet House, A Full Heart

Simply Flava — 9am Light Story

There’s something about a quiet house that settles me in a way nothing else can. Last night, it was just me, the cats, the soft hum of the tower, and the smell of the food I cooked earlier still drifting through the air. I sat there with a cup of tea warming my hands while the rain hit hard against the windows — that steady Seattle rhythm I’ve loved my whole life.

And in that moment… peace found me.

Not because everything is perfect — trust me, it’s not — but because I finally know how to recognize the simple things that keep me grounded.

This Thanksgiving was different. My body wasn’t at its best, but it’s better than it was a year ago. That alone is something to honor. Living with chronic pain teaches you to measure progress differently — by inches instead of miles. And every inch counts.

My habits keep me going: breathwork, meditation, prayer… every morning, every night. And now, adding intentional movement and taking small walks during my work day — it all adds up. These little routines are how I carry myself through the tough days and remind my body that I’m still here, still trying, still choosing myself.

I’ve learned to sit with my real feelings — not run from them, not mask them. I ask myself why I feel what I feel, I process it, and I set an intention before I go to sleep so I don’t drag today’s weight into tomorrow’s morning.

At 65, I can honestly say this:

I am the best version of myself right now.

Not perfect, but present.

Not flawless, but honest.

Not untouched by life, but stronger because of it.

I’ve lived, I’ve stumbled, I’ve hit walls, and I’ve healed. I’ve stood in my own way more times than I want to admit, and I’ve had to face the woman in the mirror and deal with her — lovingly, but directly. And I’m proud of the work I’ve done.

So yes… give me a warm cup of tea, the sound of rain, and a cat curled up against me — and I’m reminded of everything I value. Peace doesn’t need to be grand. Sometimes it’s just a quiet house on a holiday night and a heart that knows exactly who it has become.