Daily writing prompt

What’s a simple pleasure in life that brings you joy?

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A simple pleasure?

Quiet.

Not silence exactly. Silence can feel empty. I mean the kind of quiet that arrives after the noise has finally moved on.

During the school year, one of my favorite moments of the day comes right after the final bell. The students have poured out of the room. The hallway has gone from chaos to echoes. The desks are crooked. There are probably pencils on the floor, a hoodie someone forgot, and at least one mysterious piece of paper that apparently no one in the history of education has ever claimed.

And then, suddenly, it’s quiet.

For a few minutes, nobody needs anything. Nobody is asking if we “have to write in complete sentences.” Nobody is explaining why the assignment that was due three weeks ago is actually not late because “technically” they started thinking about it on time. Nobody is sharpening a pencil like they’re trying to drill for oil.

It’s just me, the room, and the chance to breathe.

That little pocket of calm brings me more joy than it probably should.

But that’s the school version.

At home, the simple pleasure looks a little different. It looks like sitting in the massage chair I inherited from my Mom, a Glencairn of decent bourbon in my hand, relaxing music playing softly in the background. The chair is working out the kinks from the day. The lights outside have gone dim. The traffic noise has faded. The world has finally turned down its volume.

There is no conversation, no television, no grades to enter, no phone calls to make, and no one asking me where something is, what something means, when something is due, or why I haven’t done the thing I was supposed to remember to do.

Just me, the chair, the music, and a glass.

That may not sound like much, but there are nights when it feels like luxury. Not expensive luxury. Not resort luxury. Not some polished Instagram version of rest. Real luxury.

The kind where your body finally admits it’s tired. The kind where your mind stops sprinting. The kind where you settle so deeply into the quiet that you accidentally fall asleep with bourbon still in the glass.

That has happened more than once.

A few times, the bourbon has ended up on me when my over-relaxed hand decided it was no longer interested in fulfilling its duties. There’s nothing quite like waking up from a peaceful doze to discover that you have baptized yourself in Kentucky’s finest.

Still, even with the occasional spillage, that quiet is a release.

Life gets loud. Work gets loud. Responsibilities get loud. Even good things can get loud. There are days when the noise piles up until I don’t realize how tightly I’ve been carrying myself until everything finally stops.

That quiet moment after school reminds me that peace can arrive in a classroom after the students leave. That quiet moment at home reminds me that peace can arrive in a worn-in chair, with music in the background and a little bourbon in the glass.

Sometimes joy is not an event. Sometimes joy is not something you chase. Sometimes joy is just the moment when nothing is being asked of you.

Sometimes the simple pleasure is realizing, “I made it through another day.”

And for me, that is enough to be grateful for.

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Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt