
I always looked forward to the New Year. It felt like a clean reset, a chance to begin again, to set fresh goals, to believe in infinite possibility.
Now it’s 2026, and I can’t say it feels the same. I’m grateful to be here, truly, but the familiar spark is muted. The enthusiasm doesn’t arrive as easily.
Cancer treatment has a way of taking ownership of time. Planning feels fragile, provisional, almost borrowed. Yet when I sit with that thought, I realize nothing has really changed since years passed. I have always only had the present moment.
What feels different now is awareness. The sense that moments are numbered, that the once-infinite horizon has narrowed into something more finite, more defined. Yet, that too, is perception. The limit was always there…I just didn’t notice it. There were never more than moments. There have only ever been moments.
I don’t know why bitterness visits me right now. I know others would long for the prognosis I’ve been given. I know this is a gift, and that gifts are not meant to be squandered. None of us should squander them.
Yet still, it is hard. It is hard to live with pain, with uncertainty, with the constant effort to fill a void. Gratitude and bleakness can exist in the same breath…..and lately, they do.
