I came across a post by a content creator who admitted he had lost his small joys. He shared a story about the first time he flew business class. He was overwhelmed, grinning from ear to ear, taking photos, amazed by the simplest details. Not long ago, he boarded the same class as a grumpy man. Laptop open the moment he sat down, mind already elsewhere. When the stewardess asked him to close it for takeoff, he answered with impatience.

Then he noticed a passenger not far from him. Someone smiling, taking pictures, visibly excited. In that moment, he felt ashamed. Since when did wonder turn into entitlement. When did joy become routine.

His reflection stayed with me. Expectations rise, joy fades. Gratitude is what keeps it alive.

Oh well, this felt familiar.

Since my twenties, my birthday prayer has always been the same. It has become a joke among my closest friends. They already know what I will ask for. Not a perfect life. Just a thankful heart. The ability to recognize blessings at every turn, whether the days feel gentle or heavy.

Because life is not always good, and it is not always bad. It moves, it shifts, it surprises. What matters is not the turn itself, but whether I still know how to see what is being given.

Today, I remind myself that gratitude is not just a feeling. It is a practice. A way of breathing through each season. A way of embracing the small joys before they fade into habit.

Perhaps growing older is not about chasing bigger joys, but learning how to hold on to the ones already in our hands.

And today, I make the same wish to never lose the ability to see, to remember, and to give thanks.