Have you lost your joy? Day 1

by Farley Ledgerwood

I’ve learned over six decades that joy doesn’t always leave with a bang. More often, it slips out the side door while no one’s looking.

I’ve seen this in women I love - my daughter after a rough season at wrok, an old colleague who carried more than her share at home, and a neighbor who used to light up every block party. None of them announced ‘I’ve lost my spark.’ They just started doing small things differently. Quieter. Duller. And unless you know what to look for, you miss it.

This isn’t about diagnosing anyone or slapping labels on complex lives. It’s about noticing-the gentle art of paying attention so we can show up with care.

If these resonate with you personally, condiser them invitations to make space for your own needs, not reasons to scold yourself. And if you recognize someone you love, let these be conversation starters, not verdicts.

She stops making the small plans. Joy loves small plans-coffee after errands, a quick walk at dusk, a Sunday market. When joy fades, those micro-outings are the first to go. A woman who oncefloated ideas (Let’s try that new bakery) starts saying ‘Maybe next week,’ until next week never comes.

A neighbor of mine, Ruth, usedto arrange impromptu picnic suppers on the grass behind our street. One spring, the invites slowed. Then they stopped. When I asked how she was, she said, ‘Oh, I’m fine. Just busy.’ Busy was code for empty. I started inviting her onlow-stakes strolls with Lottie, my dog. Ten minutes, then fifteen, then a loop around the pond. The grand plans returned months later, but the ten-minute asks brought color back first.

If this is you: make one tiny plan this week you can keep on a tired day-a five-minute walk, a single pastry run, two chapters on the porch. Small is still sacred.