Dear Ordinary

A letter to the beautiful mundane

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Hello….

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the small moments that make up life, the quiet ones we’re so used to ignoring. For a long time, I thought significance only lived in the big, exciting milestones we plan and chase, but as I’ve slowed down, I’ve started to see how much there is in the everyday things we barely notice.

This letter is my heartfelt attempt to make peace with the ordinary, to stop looking past it and instead learn to sit with it, even love it. I hope it feels like that for you too, a reminder that there’s something worth holding onto in the mundane moments of every day.

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Dear Ordinary,

I wake up and find you in the quiet of the morning, in the soft light filtering through the curtains, creating gentle shadows on the floor. You come in quietly, mingling with the steam from my cup of tea and the morning air as I crack the window just enough to let the day in. I notice you in the distant noise of birds and the calm stretches of the house before the day begins. You’re always here, even though I spent years pretending you weren’t enough.

I used to think I had to rush past you as if life was waiting somewhere beyond this. I chased after busy days and exciting moments. But now, I see you differently. You’re in the tangled socks at the foot of the bed, in the familiar clinking of dishes piled up after meals shared. You’re in those quiet moments, too, those comfortable silences that don’t need to be filled. I didn’t notice you like this before but now you’re everything I see.

You’re also in the sea air that clings to my coat after a walk along the shore. Later, when I empty my pockets, I find you again in the small shells I collected. They sit on the windowsill now, catching the light - little reminders of you. 

You’re not what I thought my life would feel like, yet here you are, settled into the rhythm of each day. You’re in the repetition of folding washing, sweeping up crumbs, and brushing my daughter's hair aside. You've become my rituals - the comfort of the ordinary, reminding me there’s contentment in the familiarity of everyday life. You’re teaching me how to pay attention. 

I’m learning to appreciate you. Slowly and with hesitation. There’s a comfort to you that I hadn’t noticed before. You hold everything together. You may not be loud or the stuff of exciting stories, but you’re always here, in the steady ticking of the clock and the gentle light across the walls.

You exist in the stillness of the afternoon, in the pauses between busy hours. I’m learning to sit with you and to accept the truth you’ve been hinting at all along: THIS IS IT. There’s no bigger moment waiting ahead; the comfort and beauty I’ve been searching for is already here.

Yours 
Gemma x

Thank you for taking a moment to sit with me in these thoughts. It’s easy to overlook the quieter parts of life, to dismiss them as unimportant, but I’m learning that they hold us together, even when we’re not giving it much thought.

If this letter resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts, what small moments have you been noticing lately? Feel free to reply or share; I always love hearing from you. Until next time, I hope you find a little beauty in the quiet corners of your day.

love Gemma x