September 21st started like any other day, but I knew it wasn’t going to stay ordinary. Louie’s advance birthday celebration was waiting, and with it, the chance to turn a Sunday into something unforgettable.

The morning was quiet, almost meditative. I opened the windows to let the crisp air in, then put a record on my old player. There’s something about vinyl—the rawness, the faint crackle, the imperfections—that feels more alive than digital playlists. As I swept the floor and wiped down tables, the music followed me from room to room. Cleaning didn’t feel like a chore; it felt like preparing a stage for joy to enter.

And joy did arrive. By noon, the kitchen smelled of baked pasta with its golden crust, chicken fried to crisp perfection, and a spread that spoke more of love than luxury. A charcuterie board sat at the center like an invitation for everyone to come closer, to take a little, to share a little. And on the side, the birthday cake waited, decorated with balloons and colors that screamed, “Today is worth celebrating.”

But the food was only half the story. The other half was laughter—laughter that rolled across the room like music, that rose above the clinking of plates, that reminded us of what it feels like to belong. Conversations overlapped, stories spilled, and in the middle of it all sat Louie—the “birthday boy”—smiling quietly, balloons in hand, soaking in the love that surrounded him. Even the dogs and cats seemed to know it was a special day, weaving in and out of the room, reminding us that joy doesn’t belong only to humans.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t flawless. And yet, it was everything.

Because here’s what I’ve been learning:

life’s greatest lesson is not about chasing the extraordinary, but about finding purpose in the ordinary.

The Japanese call it ikigai—your reason for being, that sweet spot where what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what sustains you all meet.

That day, ikigai didn’t look like a big career milestone or a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. It looked like food cooked with care. It looked like friends gathering around a table. It looked like Louie holding balloons, his smile proof that love is louder than any decoration.

Too often, we wait for “someday.” Someday when we’re more successful. Someday when life is easier. Someday when everything is perfect. But the truth is, someday is not promised. Happiness is not a future event—it’s a choice we make in the present.

And on September 21st, I chose presence.

I chose to clean the house even when it felt tiring, because welcoming people matters.
I chose to prepare, because food tastes different when it’s shared.
I chose to gather and laugh, because those hours can never be repeated.
I chose to pause, look around the room, and think, “This is enough. This is happiness.”

That’s the heartbeat of ikigai: to stop waiting for the perfect life, and to live the life we already have with purpose.

Because one day, when we look back, it won’t be the flawless moments that make us smile. It will be the messy, noisy, laughter-filled afternoons. It will be the way our pets curled up by our feet. It will be the way balloons swayed gently in the corner long after the candles were blown out.

Life’s greatest lesson? Don’t wait. Celebrate now. Love now. Be present now.

Because the truth is, the extraordinary isn’t somewhere in the distance—it’s right here, hidden in the cracks of ordinary days like September 21st.

-ANJ ❤