LOVE IN THE LITTLE THINGS

The last week has been a whirlwind. Watching my Aunt Merle – always a force of nature – navigate hospitalization has been tough. Now that we’re home, our days are filled with medicine reminders, debates over what’s “good” for her to eat, blood pressure and sugar checks, and endless doctor calls… but also a quiet gratitude for being here together.

As a 46-year-old working woman stepping into this new caregiving role, I’ve learned that a healthy heart isn’t only about blood pressure or cholesterol. It’s about noticing and savoring the small, beautiful moments right in front of us.

In honor of World Heart Day, here’s a glimpse of the little things that have become our true medicine. I’ve started calling these moments glimmers.

1. The Great Sock Hunt. My aunt is a creature of comfort and has very particular tastes, especially when it comes to her feet. The other day, she refused to get out of bed until I found her favorite pair of compression socks—black and basic, but her must-have to allegedly help her walk. Hmmmm…That small act of finding them, and her subsequent sigh of contentment as she put them on, was a glimmer of our old selves shining through.

2. The Great Remote Control Scavenger Hunt. We’ve entered a new phase of our relationship where I am the designated remote control finder. Or honestly anything that resembles a gadget can fall under this, the remote for the AC, the remote for the fan, the list goes on… She’ll insist it’s all gone missing, and I’ll find it buried under a blanket, in the kitchen, or tucked neatly behind a pillow. Her playful insistence on a lost remote, and my ridiculous searches, are little glimmers that remind me of her wit and our connection.

3. The “Good Old Days” Playlist. Music has been a surprisingly powerful tool. We’ve been listening to her favorite oldies, and it’s been a beautiful trip down memory lane. When a song from her youth comes on, her face lights up, and she’ll tap her foot or even hum along.  Seeing her connect with those memories, if only for a few minutes, is a precious glimmer of her energy returning.

4. The Sunlight Through the Window. We’ve set up her chair right by the window. In the mornings, when the sun streams in, she’ll just sit there, sipping her tea, with her eyes closed. Witnessing her soak in that simple warmth and peace is a beautiful glimmer of healing.

5. Her First “I’m Hungry” Demand. The first day she truly had an appetite after coming home was a milestone. Her demanding “I’m hungry, what are you making?” was a phrase I’d usually roll my eyes at, but this time, it was music to my ears. That simple, feisty request meant she was regaining her strength. It was a wonderful glimmer of her feisty spirit making a comeback.

6. Holding Her Hand. As she recovers, sometimes she’ll reach for my hand while we’re sitting on the couch watching TV. It’s not a big gesture, and it’s usually brief, but it’s one of the most powerful things in my day. It’s a wordless thanks, a moment of connection, and a glimmer of her trust and love for me.

7. The Perfect Cup of Coffee. I’ve been making coffee the same way for years, but now, a perfectly brewed cup feels like a small triumph. The aroma, the warmth in my hands, and the quiet ritual of preparing it for us both is a moment of calm in a busy day – a simple glimmer of a peaceful routine.

8. The Garden. Our small garden has become a source of comfort. I’ll sit outside for a few minutes each day, and I’ll point out new buds or leaves. It’s a simple act, but watching a new life emerge in the garden is a beautiful metaphor for our own journey.  It’s a small glimmer of  growth that reminds me to have patience.

9. A Handwritten Note. My aunt has always loved writing notes. She has the best handwriting I’ve ever seen. Ever!  A few days ago, she wrote me a short note on a sticky pad that simply said “Thank you for being here.” It’s on my fridge now, and every time I see it, it reminds me of the love and gratitude that we share – a tiny, but powerful glimmer of appreciation.

10. A Simple “Goodnight.” The end of the day can feel overwhelming, but when my aunt looks at me and says a simple “Goodnight, Pen,” it feels like everything is going to be okay. That simple phrase is a glimmer of hope and an anchor in our new routine.