Happy New Year

I stopped writing to you all, and I’m sorry. Mostly, I’m sorry because the practice of writing is so cathartic to me. Sometimes the words are like tears, and they cleanse me. Other times, the words are like stars that alone don’t brighten much, but combined light up the whole sky. Words have helped make real what otherwise is not, solidify that which has no bounds, and allow me to grasp what so often seems out of reach.

I stopped writing because I was in one of those no-man’s-lands of life—a place where I felt lost. Perhaps not a place at all, but rather a journey. I began writing these letters not only for you all—my children and friends—but for one friend in particular, whose struggle my words were not helping. That made me opine on whether or not my words made a difference to anyone at all. I have since discovered, or perhaps realized, that what I write does make a difference, if only to me and that is enough.

It eludes me why, when I need something the most, I’m the least likely to work toward it. I know I’m not alone in that, and that is something to work on—perhaps knowing that it may always be a struggle, and that too is okay.

Anyway, here I am in the early days of 2026, not yet at a destination but very much embracing the journey. I’m grateful for 2025, but looking forward to 2026 with the mantra, “Show me how this can be better.” I’m grateful for all I have, all that I’ve done, and I’m so excited for the path that lies ahead of me. I’m humbled by all the relationships and knowledge that I currently have, and I’m looking forward to how much better it can all get, because I know that if I focus there, that is where I’ll head.

I moved on and lost some things and people this past year. I wish I could say that every person I’ve lost I was ready to part with, or that everything I’ve moved on from was my choice at the time, but that wouldn’t be true. The truth is, I know life unfolds as it should, and sometimes it just doesn’t make sense. I know that what seems unreal and senseless now may become clear with the passing of time, and that some things will never make sense, no matter how many words I write, how much time passes, or how hard I try.

I’ve lost much this past year, but I’ve also learned, through and because of those losses, who I am and how I want to live and that through grief and sadness there is undoubtedly a way toward the light.

This year, I’m focusing not only on how much better everything can be, but also on how much better it already is. I’ve had some incredible experiences, and some of the most amazing people have come into my life. I’ve experienced loss, but also abounding love and friendship. There is so often duality in life. I’ve delved into the greatest sadness, grief so deep, so low and difficult I thought I might be stuck there, and I’ve soared to such great pinnacles of joy that I’ve wondered how my feet might ever touch the ground again.

This business, as it so often has, offers me grounding I would otherwise lack, knowing I’m doing what I should, surrounded by beautiful, capable people who partner with me to help make real what would otherwise only be imagined.

I’m forever and always grateful for my children, who give me the courage to do what I might otherwise fear, the grace and patience to know that rarely does life go as we expect, and a youthful perspective that reminds me that from nothing, so much can come.

I’m thankful for my friends and family who have rallied when I’ve needed them, and to all of you for your support, enthusiasm, and patience. I thank those of you who have reached out to ask me to continue to write.

I’m humbled by this life and by those who share it with me, and I’m excited for the journey ahead.

With love and light,