How Simplifying My Life Deepened My Joy

Since COVID began, my life shifted when my dad broke his hip. I returned to the countryside—my childhood home—to care for him, ensuring he could stay in his own place as he approaches 92. My mom passed 22 years ago, but Dad rekindled things with his first sweetheart a few years later. They’ve been together ever since, their love unshakable.

At 88, she recently suffered a cerebral infarction. She’s recovering, though one side of her body isn’t fully cooperating, so she can’t live alone anymore. Her daughter’s finding her a new spot, and it tugs at the heart.

Here, I’ve settled into a slower rhythm. I work on my Four Leaf products, mastering butter, yogurt, and meals with local farmers’ produce—supermarkets are a faded habit. I take walks, hit the beach 20 minutes away, or bask in Dad’s garden. When the weather’s nice, I nudge him outside for some vitamin D, though he grumbles it’s still too cold—hehehe. Soon, I’ll work from his covered terrace again, nature as my backdrop.

Before her stroke, they’d alternate weekends—one at Dad’s, the next at hers, both still in their own homes. I’d cook for them when she was over, cherishing those months. Now, I drive him to her rehab center every Sunday. While they share tender moments, I snap secret photos or record their sweet exchanges for keepsakes, then step out for a walk or some laptop time.

Dad’s still sharp—checking the local news and Spain’s weather on his laptop, playing indoor golf (kolven), and chatting with his younger crew at the society. Picking him up, I still grin seeing him perched on a barstool—wow, for his age!

When he’s gone—hopefully not soon—I’ll travel again, but for now, this quiet life, laced with their love, fills me with a deeper joy than I ever expected.

Downsizing my life has taught me that true joy lies not in chasing more, but in savoring the small, meaningful moments—like Dad’s stubborn charm and their enduring love—that make every day richer.