January 12th, 2026

            I want to grow so large I can touch the sky with my fingertips, but parts of me yearn to reach the sky another way. A whisper says in the dark, traveling with a scent of vanilla-orange, “You must grow wings.” Right, I tell myself, because my destination is still far ahead of me.

            My mind immediately flashes to a scoop of ice cream on a sunny summer afternoon, a while ago. The tangy, electric flavor of the orange, combined with the soft, gummy taste of vanilla, overrides my senses and instantly calms me from head to toe. I am still sweating in my car, twisting and cranking my head to match the swirls on the ice cream cone, mind you. I am elated like a small child, and the woes of my graduate program fade away as I realize this is my new favorite flavor of the year.

            Once a die-hard matcha ice-cream fan, my palate has grown to prefer a more familiar, cozy taste—one I adored as a child. Images of me running mindlessly through the grass at home and in the schoolyard, with an orange Creamsicle in my hand, come to mind. Sometimes old parts of ourselves revisit us in new ways, at least this is how I reframe the significant changes happening to me at the moment. This is how I reframe change to be more comforting to me.

            I am re-learning how to ride a bike.

            I am revisiting times that brought me smiles and laughter.

            I am rediscovering moments of fun I never thought possible as an adult.

            At times, it feels as if I am deeming it okay to be a nudist because I am stripping away rigid constraints around my likes and dislikes, perceptions, and my ever-changing identities. I am not a fixed creature. This is a belief I have always allowed myself, even though I once made a home in the black-and-white spaces of reality.

            But as I grow ever wiser, I find I cannot think my way out of this box. I must feel my way out, unfreeze, and let my wild heart loose. I, like any human, am not made to roam the free, open spaces of the world with chains around my ankles. If I wanted to wear anklets, I would. But these anklets make it hard to walk and appreciate the scenery around me. So I have chosen to keep my ankles bare.

            I must find a way to navigate correctly, to fly, and to dream. Hope felt like a punch to the chest when I couldn’t believe it was real. But if there’s a word for it, I remind myself that it must be real and that it must exist in the lexicon for a reason. Hope helps expand the mind beyond self-limiting beliefs that make parts of reality unimaginable.

            Imagination is so vital for the human soul.

            I stretch my mind like clay and let it form the conclusions it wants, even if it undercuts previous beliefs of mine, even as I move through a noisy world full of things distracting me from hearing my own inner voice, from hearing my truth.

            I find myself consuming more and more, doom-scrolling my life away. As I grow so tired of my phone that my mind rebels. I realize that hope is the first thing that convinces me to put my phone down and create art instead. Hope is the thing that has me downloading an app to limit my doom-scrolling time. Hope is the thing that convinces me that what I have to share is real and important, even if it only reaches one person.

            I continue to hope for a better day, for a new dawn, for a new way to fly.

Wherever you are, I hope these words find you at the right moment,

Nicole Asbjorn