I started thinking about my word of the year back in November when I realized nothing had really come to mind yet. Some years the word feels obvious and steady by fall, and other years it doesn’t fully surface until I’m goal setting in December. I’ve learned not to rush it. The right word has always found me when it’s ready.
This year felt different though. I was newly pregnant, and I knew that would shape whatever word emerged. I didn’t want to force something sentimental just because of the season, but I also didn’t want to ignore how much this year already feels like a threshold.
So I did something I’ve never done before — I asked ChatGPT for suggestions. I shared my past words (Joy, Rooted, Adventure, Nourish, Thrive, Connect, Rest, Open, Delight, Engage, Experiment, Whole, Play) and asked if there were patterns. Seeing them all laid out reminded me how cyclical my choosing has been — expansion, grounding, delight, connection — a rhythm between outward adventure and inward anchoring.
I initially thought maybe my word would lean into pregnancy in an obvious way: something like Bloom, Nurture, or Wonder. Those were beautiful, but they didn’t feel quite settled.
Then I realized I was craving something slower. Less performance, more presence. I kept coming back to words like slow, savor, space, enough. I’ve been deeply impacted by the idea that life isn’t waiting for me in some bigger, better version of my circumstances. The life I want is already here. I don’t need more space, more time, more readiness — I need gentleness with what is.
“Enough” almost became my word. I loved what it represented: contentment over striving. Gratitude instead of “if only.” But it still felt slightly static.
When the word attune surfaced, something clicked.
Attune felt alive. It held slowness without stagnation. It held gratitude without forcing positivity. It felt like listening instead of proving. Like tuning an instrument before playing — aligning first, acting second.
Attune means paying attention — to my body (especially now), to my children, to my intuition, to the subtle cues in my home and relationships. It means moving at the pace of this season instead of the pace of pressure. It means trusting what I sense. It means responding instead of reacting.
After a year of Play — spontaneity, adventure, “why not?” — Attune feels like the exhale.
Not smaller.
Just deeper.
This year, I don’t want more noise. I want more noticing.
More listening.
More presence.
More trust.
More enoughness.
2026 will be the year of attunement.
🌿 Attune Definition
To adjust or bring something (or oneself) into harmony, accord, or a sympathetic relationship, often involving becoming more aware or responsive to something like sounds, needs, or trends, essentially meaning to get in tune or acclimatize. It can refer to musical tuning or, more commonly, to a figurative sense of fitting in or understanding a situation deeply.
Key meanings:
To Harmonize: To bring into agreement or balance, like tuning a musical instrument or aligning feelings.
To Adjust/Accustom: To adapt or acclimatize a person or thing to a new environment or situation.
To Make Aware/Responsive: To become sensitive or receptive to something, such as needs, signals, or nuances.
🌿 2026 Intentions — Attune
1. I will attune to my body and trust what it tells me. I listen without judgment, honor my limits, and respond with care rather than pressure.
2. I will attune to this season, not rush past it. I release the urge to hurry toward what’s next and stay present with what is unfolding now.
3. I will attune to my children with patience and curiosity. I respond to cues instead of reacting to noise, trusting connection over control.
4. I will attune to joy, noticing it in small, ordinary moments. I slow down enough to savor what’s already here.
5. I will attune to gratitude by practicing enoughness. I resist the pull of “if only” and choose contentment in the life I have.
6. I will attune to my energy and move at a reasonable pace. Rest is not earned — it is essential, and I welcome it without guilt.
7. I will attune to my intuition and let it guide my decisions. I trust my inner knowing, especially when the path feels quiet or subtle.
8. I will attune to what truly matters and let the rest fall away. I make space for what nourishes me and gently release what distracts or depletes.
🌿 My 2026 Mantra
“I attune to the rhythms of my body and my life, moving at the pace of this season. I choose presence, gratitude, and enough—letting them shape who I am becoming.”
🌿 My Vision Board
Cheers to a whole new year and all kinds of new adventures. ❤️
Alicia posted a photo of textures on Substack in June and I made my own version for the summer.
A lot of what I share here begins as something small—just a few lines in a notebook that I don’t mean to turn into anything more. Most of it is just me trying to keep up with my own life, to catch something before it slips past unnoticed. Sometimes those entries stretch a little longer, and eventually they make their way here, still carrying that same quiet intention.
Autumn felt different in that way. I found myself paying attention to textures more than usual. The roughness of leaves as they dried out, the softness of worn sweaters pulled back into rotation, the way the light shifted and landed differently across familiar spaces. It gave me something to notice, something to return to throughout the days.
I think that’s part of what keeps me drawn to both photography and writing things down like this. Not to document everything perfectly, but to catch the subtle changes—the ones that don’t ask for attention but quietly shape a season. The way a room feels different in October than it does in August. The way routines soften or settle without you realizing it right away.
Paying attention to textures kept my eyes open in a way I didn’t expect. It made ordinary moments feel layered, almost like there was more to hold onto than I would have noticed otherwise. And now, looking back, it’s those small, tactile things that seem to define the season more than any single event.
Maybe that’s what I’m always trying to do when I write or take a photo—hold onto something that is already changing. Not in a way that stops it, but in a way that lets me return to it later and recognize it for what it was.
Another month, another round up of photos documenting where I was over the last month. It honestly felt as dreary as it looks. I kind of love the muted tones of these photos because that is exactly how the month felt. Looking forward to a more springy selection in March.
• Callahan’s Tiny Things – I never want to forget Callahan’s little treasures, carefully collected and handled with love. A panda, a heart, a tiny dog—among many other things tucked safely in his drawer.
• Sick at Home – Too many days in February spent in pajamas, snuggled up in bed next to two cuddly pups. This month has been full of tissues, electrolytes, and naps.
• Golf – A winter escape to the indoor putting green (even if it’s just at Dick’s Sporting Goods), boots on artificial grass, trying to shake off the cold-weather blues. Our boy loves the sport and let’s be honest, I do too.
• Playing Outside – Sneakers on concrete, basketball in hand, soaking up every tolerable moment of fresh air before the next cold front rolls in.
• Ice Skating – Standing on the ice, watching tiny skates glide forward, slow and unsteady. Holding my toddler’s hand, feeling the wobbles and the determination.
• Family Exercise – A workout for three squeezed into the living room, weights on the rug, trying to get our pump on.
• Toys in the Living Room – A floor covered in stuffed animals and basketballs, proof of a day well played. My feet among the chaos, embracing the mess of childhood.
• Soda and Shopping Vibes – A weekend with my folks always includes a fountain soda grabbed by dad and a trip to target with mom always makes my day. Sidewalk slush, white sneakers, a small but familiar joy.
• Soaking up the Sun – Face tilted upward, spring finally in the air, melting the last bits of snow. Always thankful for glimpses that remind us that winter won’t last forever.
The Good List: Two snow days for a boy who is really excited about snow. Sprinkled moments in the work (from home) day to play. Opening “presents” at my desk and helping put the final lego on top of the tower – too good. The way that golf and lawnmowing become winter activities. How he wants to be just like his daddy. Cozy blankets to snuggle with when we come inside. An incredible start to my 2025 reading goal. Snow gear from last year that still fits IYKYK. And together being exactly where we want to be.
What a weekend. We got about two inches of snow on Friday and the cold front (after several days of 50-60 degree weather) made us want to stay inside all weekend. We did venture out to hang up our new bird feeder and I snuck in a little me time at a bookshop downtown. I did come away with the first book in the Crescent City series by Sarah J Maas that I’ve had on my TBR for years at this point.
I’m currently in the middle of the audiobook “Remarkably Bright Creatures” which is book number 12 for the year. I managed 65 in 2023 and am on track to surpass that if I keep up this pace. Depends on how many 800+ page Sarah J Maas/Brandon Sanderson books make it onto my list. I’ve really been trying to habit switch to spend less of my time on my phone, and more with a book after Cal goes to bed. Amazing book stores and a nightstand full of books I’m excited about definitely help make that happen.
The best thing I did all year was create a bucket list of experiences that I wanted our family to prioritize throughout the fall. We definitely didn’t hit all of them, but the ones we did check off were so much fun! For each thing that we ticked off, I made a little collage of 3-4 photos.
