Moon River

Growing up, my father always had a way of making even the smallest moments feel like victories. He wasn’t the kind of man who waited for grand achievements to celebrate, he believed that every step forward, no matter how small, was worthy of recognition.

I remember being a child, sitting at our dining table, feeling defeated over something as trivial as a school project. I didn’t win, didn’t even place, and yet there he was, beaming as if I had just conquered the world. “You worked hard, didn’t you?” he asked. “Then that’s already a reason to celebrate.”

And so, we did. Not with extravagant gestures, but with little things, a scoop of ice cream, a drive around the city, a quiet moment of acknowledgment. “You don’t wait until you’ve climbed the whole mountain to be proud,” he’d say. “You celebrate every step, or you’ll never know how far you’ve come.”

That lesson followed me through life. Through every transition, every heartbreak, every uncertainty. When I moved away, when I faced rejection, when I felt lost, his voice echoed in my mind, reminding me that even survival is an achievement.

So, I learned to celebrate. Not just the obvious wins, but the invisible ones too. The mornings I got out of bed when it felt impossible. The times I chose to walk away from things that no longer served me. The moments I stood up for myself, even if my voice shook.

Now, as I sit here, reflecting on another month gone by, I think about all the milestones I almost overlooked, the quiet victories, the battles no one saw, the moments of growth that didn’t come with applause. And I realize, this is what life is about.

Because if there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s this: Life isn’t just about chasing the big moments. It’s about finding joy in the small ones, too. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.