Jan. 9, 2026 Emma LeMieur
New York City, New York

Recently, I’ve been noticing a whole new selection of beautiful things. Since moving, my beauty-seeing eyes have been forced into a bit of a reset. I used to live at home, surrounded by people and places that I love. Now, I live in a brand-new city where I can count the people I know on one hand.

On any given day before I moved across the country, I’d be very likely to say that I saw beauty on my nature walk, or while I was cooking with my mom, or spending time with my sister, or watching my nieces. Beauty was showing up in very familiar and significant places. I was often too busy to see the small—so it would pass me by. My life was full. Too full, even, that I didn’t notice the little things.

Update: my life is now slow, and something cool is happening.
These days, I’d say I am noticing teeny beauties everywhere. Life has been including a bit more solitude, which has made room for the small moments of beauty to speak.

I work from home, and yesterday I was sitting in silence as I worked—home alone, with the window cracked open. I heard someone hollering and walked to my window to check out the ruckus. (You never know what you might see in NY—so a look almost never disappoints.) This time, it was an elderly man in a wheelchair. He was in rough shape—and cussing loudly. He was stating that this hill was too much for him to wheel up, and he was so over it that the whole neighborhood knew.

Next in my window-peep view came an Amazon Prime delivery man. He paused his deliveries, left his cart, and walked over to the man in the wheelchair. He took the handles of the wheelchair and quietly began to push the hollering man up the hill. I heard the cussing turn to banter as I watched the two men make their way up the hill. They left my window view, and it was a few minutes before the Prime man was back on his schedule.

That was a beautiful moment for me.

Now, when I am too rushed to pause and listen to someone, this moment comes to mind. I am learning that sometimes, in solitude, the beautiful moments are even more striking. I have time to savor them, silence to hear them, and a real need to see them.

I am hoping to find that delivery man on his route soon. I’d like to thank him for giving that man a push—and thank him for being a beautiful moment in my day.