Good morning, 2026.

I didn’t stay up to meet you at the stroke of midnight, but I trusted you’d understand. There’s something very you about entering without fireworks or noisy crowds, without trying to have a big moment. I woke up more rested and ready for the start of our relationship. That feels like the right beginning.

I’ve found that, in all introductions, there are unspoken questions: Will we like each other? Will we click? Will we feel good about our relationship and our time together? And maybe the bigger one—What will we be celebrating together a year from now?

I’ve heard good things about you already. The investing forecasters say you’re steadier. The astrologers say you’re constructive and clarifying. Even my spirit guides have said good things about you, although—to be fair—they say good things about pretty much everything. Still, I take it as a good sign.

What I like most so far is your energy of invitation. Even though I’ve only known you a short time, you feel like a year that says, Keep going, you’re doing great. Go deeper. Trust yourself.

I can see that you also have a way of getting people to reflect on what they want. I like that about you. We all have a way of holding our breath a lot, waiting to see what will happen next and trying to guard against disappointment or worse. But you invite us to imagine what’s possible, and to consider how we might improve ourselves, how we might live a little more honestly, a little more awake.

So here’s what you’re inspiring me to say: I want to really get to know you—not in a frantic or fretful way, but in harmony. If 2025 was a year of listening—sometimes uncomfortably so—you feel like the year when listening turns into movement. Inspiration that’s steady, consistent, steadfast—that’s one of my favorite words, steadfast. One satisfying step naturally following another.

And look, I want to be clear. I know it’s not up to you to make me happy. That part is up to me. But I’m deeply grateful for all the ways you’ll give us time. Time to be together. Time to write. (We get to finish a new book together!) Time to heal. Time to work things out. Time to have fun. Time to understand each other better. And maybe—even if only every now and then—time to have a good hair day.

That’s a great gift. Priceless, really.

So hello, 2026. I won’t ask you to be perfect. I won’t ask you to be easy. Only this: help me tell the truth more clearly, love a little more lightly, and remember—especially when the noise gets loud—that the power we’re looking for has been here inside us all along.

Welcome to you, and to all the adventures ahead.

With love,

Deb

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A NOTE TO MY READERS: I write “A World of Your Own” as a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, which is led by Julie Gammack, of Des Moines. I’m honored to be part of this group, featuring the diverse voices of more than 70 professional writers and journalists across the state of Iowa. I encourage you to check out their columns.