As we stand at the edge of 2026, I'm not going to pretend I have big, bold predictions or grand resolutions. This past year has taught me that sometimes the most honest thing we can do is simply hope for small, true things.
So here are my small hopes for the year ahead - not resolutions, not goals, just gentle wishes for the everyday moments that make life worth living.
I Hope for More Good Mornings
Not every morning. I'm not unrealistic. But more mornings where the coffee tastes exactly right. Where you wake up naturally instead of to an alarm - or at least to something gentler than a jarring buzz. (Here in Florida, my 26-year-old rescue cat Miss Fancy Pants serves as my alarm clock, her internal paw-watch going off precisely at 4:00 AM for breakfast. My 8-year-old Ragdoll Fitzy is much more reasonable about morning schedules.)
I hope for mornings when you have time to notice the light coming through the window, or those quiet first moments before the day's demands start, or the simple pleasure of that first sip of coffee that's exactly the right temperature.
Small morning mercies. They matter more than we think.
I Hope We Light More Candles
Literally and metaphorically. I hope we create more soft light in our homes and in our hearts. I hope we take the extra thirty seconds to light a candle instead of leaving it on the shelf "for special occasions."
Every ordinary evening is special enough for candlelight. Every regular Tuesday deserves a little extra warmth.
I hope we stop saving the good things for later and start using them now.
I Hope for Comfortable Silences
With the people we love. With ourselves. Moments where we don't feel compelled to fill the quiet with conversation or entertainment or scrolling.
I hope for more evenings sitting together without needing to talk. More walks without podcasts. More moments of just being, without the pressure to be productive or entertained every second.
The comfortable silence of simply existing - that's a gift I hope we give ourselves more often in 2026.
I Hope We're Kinder to Our Bodies
Not in the resolution way of punishing ourselves into a different shape, but in the gentle way of actually caring for these bodies that carry us through everything.
I hope for more long showers just because they feel good. More stretching when we're stiff. More good soap that makes washing hands a small pleasure instead of a chore. More warm drinks held in both hands. More soft clothes that feel like a hug. More rest without guilt.
Our bodies deserve tenderness, not transformation projects.
I Hope for Small Brave Moments
Not big, dramatic bravery - just small acts of courage. Saying no to something that drains you. Asking for help when you need it. Starting that thing you've been putting off. Having the honest conversation. Taking the small risk.
I hope we surprise ourselves with our own quiet strength more often than we expect to.
I Hope We Notice More
The way the winter light looks different than summer light. How good it feels to climb into clean sheets. The particular pleasure of the first sip of something hot. The sound of rain. The smell of bread baking or coffee brewing or soap that reminds you of something good.
I hope we slow down enough to actually experience the small good things instead of rushing past them toward the next thing on the list.
Maybe keeping a gratitude journal helps with this. Maybe it's just practicing paying attention. Either way - I hope we notice more.
I Hope for More Honesty
With ourselves about how we're actually doing. With others about what we actually need. Less "I'm fine" when we're not. Less pretending we have it all together. Less pressure to perform happiness we don't feel.
I hope we give each other - and ourselves - more room to be human, which means sometimes being tired, sad, uncertain, or just not okay.
Honesty is its own kind of hope.
I Hope We Rest More
Real rest. Not "productive rest" or "self-care" that's really just more work. Actual, unapologetic rest.
Going to bed early. Saying no to plans because you just don't have the energy. Taking the nap. Doing nothing on purpose. Letting yourself be unproductive without guilt.
In a world that constantly demands more, I hope rest becomes an act of quiet rebellion in 2026.
I Hope for Connection
Real connection, not just digital proximity. I hope for more actual conversations. More looking people in the eye. More "how are you really?" instead of "how are you?" as we rush past each other.
I hope we put our phones down more. I hope we reach out to the people we've been meaning to call. I hope we let people know we're thinking of them.
We need each other. I hope we remember that more often.
These Small Hopes
None of these hopes will change the world. They won't fix what's broken or solve what's hard. They're just small, human wishes for a little more comfort, a little more peace, a little more genuine goodness in the everyday moments that make up a life.
But maybe that's exactly what we need. Maybe the big transformations come from accumulating enough small, good moments. Maybe hope doesn't have to be grand to be real.
So as we step into 2026, I'm holding these small hopes loosely - not as demands or expectations, but as gentle invitations. Small ways to make the days ahead a little softer, a little warmer, a little more bearable.
What are your small hopes for the year ahead?
I wish you a gentle start to 2026. May your year be filled with small comforts, genuine moments, and all the warmth you need. Thank you for being part of our community this year.
