all things must pass
2025: a revelation
At the end of each year, I catch myself thinking, I should have paid more attention. And this can mean anything, but now I’m referring to the Chinese zodiac.
Unbeknownst to me, until a few weeks ago, 2025 was the year of the Wood Snake, which one TikTok user said was the reason this year felt “horrible for everyone.” Under other circumstances, I would simply think to myself, 'Sounds about right,' and keep scrolling. However, since this was not a normal year by any means (I don’t think this statement requires elaboration), I was intrigued by the meaning of the Wood Snake. I had no choice but to look inward.
The Wood Snake symbolizes introspection, shedding what no longer serves you, adaptability, and embracing change. Renewal and redefinition.
I’m taking this into consideration as I look back on who I’ve been and how I’ve felt since January. Winter blanketed me in compounded grief, and for a few months, I was paralyzed by it—I felt like I wasn’t able to do anything but think about what was happening, or what could happen next. The discomfort of the unknown terrified me, and I felt guilty for not being able to protect anyone from it.
The haze started to lift, though, and gradually, I felt more at ease, even if that meant showing up imperfectly for a while.
A key element of putting myself back together this year was spending time alone. I don’t mean succumbing to the desire of staying wrapped up in a duvet and not talking to anyone, but leaving the house with the sole purpose of returning feeling lighter.
I cannot emphasize the importance of third spaces enough, and what a privilege it is to have access to them—libraries, museums, coffee shops, parks. There are an abundance of these in my city, and I know they hate to see a contemplative young lady like me coming.
Even if there were days when I didn’t feel 100%, I got there by committing to the plan: taking my time getting ready, wearing an outfit I’d spent hours arranging in my mind, and packing a bag with everything I could need for a late morning or afternoon.
Is time spent alone meant to add up to something, other than a past worth looking back on? Who was I in those hours—in the quiet, in the noise, squeezing my way past strangers, draping my coat over the back of a chair, raising a cup to my lips, cracking the spine of a notebook. I find comfort in knowing I curated those moments of being, and that there will be plenty more of them.
One of my favorite things to do at the end of each year is to reflect on how my reading habits have changed. Although, of course, I always wish I had read more (c’est la vie).
I love devouring a book as much as the next person, but it’s equally satisfying to take my time with one, and sit with the ideas and feelings it invokes.
These are the books that stayed with me in 2025:
Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar: I have spent the entire year recommending this to anyone who will listen. It was unlike anything else I’d read before. I wrote about it in more detail back in March.
Heart the Lover by Lily King: The latest Lily King novel was an unexpected but welcome treat this year, and with Writers & Lovers being in my top five, I was far from disappointed (it ripped my heart out). One of Lily’s book tour stops was Cleveland, so I was lucky enough to meet her in November and have my copy of Writers & Lovers signed—I was starstruck, but managed to tell her how much her books have changed my life.
The Wren, The Wren by Anne Enright: I love Irish lit, okay? I enjoyed the narrative structure of The Wren, The Wren a lot. It explored the perspectives of three generations of women as they navigated the private and public lives of a famous poet in their family.
The Book of Goose by Yiyun Li: A pick for my book club that surprised me, since there was an underlying darkness throughout. The themes of friendship and obsession made me think of the two main characters in My Brilliant Friend (which I still have yet to finish).
Poetry Is Not A Luxury: The care that went into this collection is felt on every page, whether you’re a poetry lover or not. I often carried this anthology with me in case I wanted to immerse myself in one of its sections. Its Instagram counterpart never disappoints, either.
I recently entered a Heated Rivalry rabbit hole that has taken me by surprise. In the past week, I’ve watched the show multiple times, and read the book it was based upon, and skipped to book six of the series, The Long Game, for exclusively more of Shane and Ilya. Congratulations are in order for Feist—"My Moon My Man” is going to be on my Spotify Wrapped next year, one way or another.
So…I Got Engaged (!)
My boyfriend of six-plus years asked me to marry him, with a vintage ring from my side of the family. On a sunny Saturday in October, we went to our favorite coffee shop, drove to an arboretum while listening to our favorite songs, and walked through the park together until he found a private spot to ask me. We walked to the visitor center after, and I bought us cans of Izze from the vending machine, and we cheers’d on the way back to the car.
We spent the rest of the day celebrating just the two of us, and told our families the next day. The outpouring of excitement and support has been overwhelming (nice, but overwhelming), but I’m so excited to marry him next fall, and have everyone we love in the same room celebrating with us.
Strawberry Fields Forever
A week after getting engaged, I went to New York, solo—something I hadn’t truly done in over two years. This trip only warranted a one-night stay, the result of my impulsively buying a ticket to The New Yorker Festival months prior, as my event of choice took place on a Sunday afternoon (it was a conversation between Sarah Jessica Parker and Rachel Syme; can you blame me?). A risky move on my part, but I had a blissful 36 hours to myself.
Since I was in the city in August with my fiancé for the U.S. Open, I made a point of visiting places I hadn’t been to before, including Miolin Bakery in Park Slope, The Morgan Library & Museum, and The Center for Fiction. Unabashedly, fall is my favorite season, and no October trip to New York is complete without a walk through Central Park. I started a loop to Beau Bridge and took my time returning to the subway. I saw a sign for Strawberry Fields, and was instantly reminded of my grandmother.
When my family lived in the area for five years, she came to visit us from Ohio twice (maybe three times). On one of her visits, it was the weekend of John Lennon’s 70th birthday. I was on a Beatles kick at the time, so my mom took us to Strawberry Fields. When we reached the Imagine Mosaic, a celebration was in full swing—a crowd of people singing “Can’t Buy Me Love.”
Standing there, again, over 15 years later, made my chest tighten, but I was smiling all the same—I was grateful to be older, for what I knew to be true, then and now. It made me think of this quote from The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamieson:
“The pain is what you make of it. You have to find something in it that yields. I understood my guiding imperative as: keep bleeding, but find some love in the blood.”
I don’t want to find out if she still remembers that day, or New York, at all. One of the hardest things about dementia is that what I want to do most is say “I was there with you. Please hang on to that day a little bit longer.” But I know that some memories are too elaborate in nature to verbalize, to make her understand. So I keep them close for both of us, although it gets lonely doing all of the remembering.
I always enjoy the sleepy week between Christmas and New Year’s. There is a lot of cramming to meet resolutions but an overpowering sense of optimism that we will all do better when the calendar resets.
As much as I’ve come to understand the Wood Snake, I am unsure how much embracing, shedding, or both I did this year, or if it can be measured at all. But I feel transformed nonetheless—I found some love in the blood.
And with that, I’m ready to welcome 2026, for all that it will be. I’m ready to be bold, to give more compliments, to enjoy the last year of my 20s and enter a new decade.
Wishing you a peaceful new year,
Grace