I took some time to turn everything off for my 40th birthday, spending 10 days in Italy with my girlfriend. It sounds magical because it was. I turned off the news, slowed down the scrolling, and tried not to pay attention to anything that didn’t feel like magic or make me wonder.

That’s what I loved about Rome last summer and what made me want to go back to Italy for my 40th this year. I left the Catholic Church behind many years ago, but the churches in Rome are spectacular. As someone with deep faith and an appreciation for art, I admire them like any beautiful art gallery. They are to be revered, but I will warn you the volunteers in the basilicas don’t really appreciate it when you whisper “holy shit” every 30 seconds.

As someone with an equally deep appreciation for history, the dates stamped into the marble columns and faint water lines along the baseboards are just as fascinating. I love to read all the informational signs. It’s like memories wash over me even though I wasn’t there, imagining different people and whispers inside these hallowed halls. The weddings and wars. Natural disasters and intentional repairs.

Going to the airport at 6 am to board a plane surrounded by anxious travelers heading back to the United States was like whiplash. All this magic and there I was, listening to Susan loud talk from two rows behind me. I know her name because she was talking over both Elizabeth Gilbert in my headphones and the turbine buzzing outside our windows. “Even 10 days of pasta and pizza can’t make her less annoying,” I thought.

As I got more frustrated, it felt like all that magic I collected was just slipping through my fingers. In Italy, it felt like no one was in a hurry. No one was pushing people to the side or running to the next place. No loud talking. I was so relaxed.

But maybe it was me, not the scenery, that was relaxed enough to change how it all felt. I wasn’t running so I didn’t get mad about people walking slowly. I wasn’t frustrated so the wait didn’t fuel my anxiety. The airplane was taking me back, but I had a choice about returning to that race. A choice to abandon the magic of a moment.

The magic is always there if you notice it.

On my first morning back to work, I laid flat on my back in the middle of the living room. I wasn’t dreading my day, I just wanted a minute to slow down before I ran back into the rush. I wanted to go slow, like I did when everything felt magical in Italy.

As I laid there, I saw a flicker of light on the ceiling. Then again, like someone was clicking a flashlight. That’s when I realized the sun had risen to just the right spot to hit the disco ball hanging in the window. I’ve noticed the sparkles a hundred times, but not the moment when the magic turns on.

That’s what I’ll remember most from this once-in-a-lifetime 40th birthday trip. Sure, the amazing hotels and foods, too, but I will remember that this trip taught me to seek out the joy in every little thing. To be intentional about slowing down long enough to hold on to the magic.