It's Monday night, 9th of February 2026...just before 9PM. The boys are asleep (finally) and I can see their feet from where I’m sitting. One small arm flung dramatically over a pillow, the other curled inward like he gave up halfway through the fight with sleep. This is my favourite time of day. Not because it’s productive, but because it’s quiet enough for honesty. This is usually when the real thoughts arrive. Not the dramatic ones. The true ones. Lately, I’ve been sitting with a single question I can’t shake: "Who am I becoming as I step into this next season, and can I let it unfold without rushing it? On paper, things are good. I’m a few months away from graduation, something I worked hard for, something I should probably be planning more intentionally than I am. There are logistics I haven’t touched yet. Celebrations I haven’t visualized. Details I technically should be “ahead” on. And yet… I’m not panicking. There’s excitement, yes, the kind that buzzes quietly beneath...