Something I understand now, that I couldn’t see when I was younger:

The real magic lives in the little things, that aren’t that little.

In my daughter’s arms wrapped around my neck.

In a freshly brewed cup of coffee, sitting in the garden as the sun warms my skin.

In birdsong drifting through the crisp air, while I lose myself in a good book.

And in the simple gratitude, that the people I love are safe and well.