Countdown to Becoming - New Year's Eve in Sydney

It's December 31st, 1 PM, on an unusually cold day in Australia. Sue and I are scouting for an unobstructed view of the Opera house to enjoy the fireworks; preparing ourselves for the celebration of New Year's Eve in Sydney, which is what this city does best: welcoming the new year in grandeur. Australia is the first continent to ring in the new year, and Sydney is the iconic city where that crossing becomes ceremonial.

The streets are already crowded, jolly, and busy. Most families have already set up their mats, accompanied with lawn chairs, coolers, food, and games to camp out the rest of the day. Mind you, it's 1 PM!!! People are camping out from 1 PM to midnight to see fireworks. It's completely nuts! And it's times like these I wished I knew a local because I know/hope they would have streamlined the scouting and camping process! Either way, we were able to find a spot right on the water with an unobstructed view of the Opera house as desired. Oh, how majestic and graceful she is! Small in real life but striking in beauty.

Sydney gathers the world for New Year's celebration. Sitting atop bright orange barricades, I met Johannes from Estonia, who is deaf. We talked through our phones. Then I met Gloria from Jamaica and Paquita from St Vincent. Sue and I made room for them to join our little spot. They made us laugh. People-watching becomes communal. Strangers, briefly stitched together in anticipation. 

And then, quietly, I drifted inward.

New Year's Eve in Sydney

The water is calm. The Opera House reflects softly, and something in me mirrors that stillness. Without effort, I find myself on a different journey. One that has nothing to do with fireworks and everything to do with becoming the woman I'm creating.

Future me has become my compass. My North Star. Maybe it's unfair to place so much responsibility on someone who doesn't yet exist, but she keeps me oriented. "Becoming", is not glamorous. I'm spending most of the time in muddy, slimy trenches, rather than the promised bliss. But alas, "Tis the season." And seasons don't ask permission to change.

It's now 5:30 PM. Hunger started to creep in. So, we took turns visiting food trucks. When it was my turn, I ordered a chicken burger and momentarily lost my focus on personal growth and shifted on the absolutely gorgeous cook. Olive skinned. Maybe Moroccan. Repeating orders in French. When my number was called, I said "merci" with all my chest. Took a bite of my burger and realized I should've asked for salt. My sexy cook is clearly stingy with the seasoning. Even beauty has flaws.

As the evening stretches on, the energy shifts. New Year energy does that. It invites imagination. Rebirth. "Where are you now?” I ask that future version of me. I imagine her passport is thick with stamps; her heart thicker with past adventures. I hope her travels feel different. And she is catching more heart throbbing opportunities. Less survival, more choice.

I think back to Milan. A corporate trip from a former life. A beautiful city experienced through exhaustion and obligation. I was either bored, overwhelmed, or completely out of my element discussing software licensing expansion. I hope that Emi 2027 no longer travels for someone else's agenda. I hope that the fashion rental business I birthed three years ago will have grown into something honest and magnetic. Something people seek. A curated chaos that finally feels like mine.

I constantly wonder about that improved self. Ask her questions the way you ask in a prayer:

"Do you feel strong when you enter a room?

Do you trust your voice when you speak?

Have you finally stepped into your power the way you once dreamed?"

I hope she walks lightly now. What once felt heavy has learned how to fly. I'm still learning and still unlearning, still figuring out who I need to become to reach Her. My vision for her is fuzzy, but her silhouette is clear. She's illuminated. Surrounded by fuchsia bougainvillea. And she's not alone. I hope by then, I've found my people. Or at least, built my own village. Loneliness has been too much of a familiar companion lately. One I tolerate more than I want to admit.

I’ve been thinking about my future Self. One of my deepest wishes is simple: that when someone compliments me, I can say "thank you" and believe it. 

It's now 10 PM. Officially New Year's Eve in Sydney. The crowd thickens. The pushing and bumping don't bother me anymore. I'm elsewhere, dreaming about the life I'm designing for her: Living abroad. Fields of sunflowers. Rows of dahlias. Roses arching doorways. Barefeet in a vegetable garden, harvesting, nourishing, eating without cooking. Note to current self: add “hot husband who loves to cook” to the vision board.

I've made promises to myself in places like this before. In Reykjavik, sipping hot chocolate on a dark winter evening, I promised to pour everything I have to the world. To fulfill my duty as a creator. To share. To die empty. And again, in Segovia, Spain, standing beneath the towering aqueduct. I felt both small and held. Travel has given me moments like these that I carry like talismans. Reminders that falling is allowed. Rising is required. That you can pivot your dreams but not abandon them. Ease into something new but take the first step in haste.

It's 11:53PM. We're closing in the new year. “Get ready!" I shouted to Sue and the ladies. All cameras, hand-helds and tripods are going through one more check. I ask myself the real question: "Am I willing to keep choosing myself? Even when it's hard? Even when it's lonely?"

The countdown begins.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

Happy New Year!

For twelve minutes, the sky erupts. Fireworks bloom over the Opera house, burning away doubts and old narratives. Hope is loud. The past is official. 2026 is present.

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Happy New Year, Emi!

I look forward to meeting you next year. Somewhere beautiful. Wrapped in a linen robe. Warm drink in hand. A cozy blanket keeping you toasty. Basically, the universal winter uniform. I hope when we meet again, the monologue is softer. Fuller. Rooted in joy and keeping close the quiet confidence of a life lived on purpose.

From me to you.

I love you.

Emi

FIN

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