It’s barely 7:30 in the morning, and I’ve come to the beach expecting the rhythmic crash of waves. But everything is still. The tide is so low it looks like you could walk out to the horizon. The water isn’t water at all—it’s glass, perfectly smooth, reflecting the soft gray haze hanging over the beach. The air is cool and humid, the breeze so light it barely stirs the mist, and the faint scent of salt lingers in the air. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of just hours ago when fireworks exploded over the beach to welcome the new year.

A few people pass by—some with dogs, others alone, like me. I wonder if they’re taking this quiet moment to reflect, to listen, to simply be.

Sitting here now, with only the stillness for company, my thoughts drift back to last night. I celebrated New Year’s Eve at the hotel’s dinner. It wasn’t what I expected, maybe because the rain forced us indoors. The room was bright and loud, decorated in pale blue with hosts guiding us through the evening. Tables were lined with buffet trays: boiled potatoes, rice, tender chicken, even a carving station. In the center of the room stood a mountain of desserts—tiny cheesecakes, pastries, and a chocolate fountain I didn’t dare go near (I’ve learned not to trust communal fountains).

It reminded me of the Chinese New Year celebrations at my school. But as I watched the families laughing and sharing plates, I felt a familiar twinge of loneliness. I wasn’t with anyone I would normally celebrate with. Maybe that’s why I left early to spend the night with my Kindle, where the world feels more comfortably mine.

So now here I am, sitting on a rocky dock on the quiet hazy beach. The sun tries to break through the clouds, but it feels like that won’t happen for some time—if it happens at all. The haze might be a leftover from last night’s celebrations, or perhaps just the morning mist after Bali’s rains. Either way, it casts the beach in a serene, almost wintery light, a rare contrast to the illusion of Bali’s everlasting summer.

So what do I want for 2025? I’ll finish and publish my memoir. I’ll create balance in my life, no longer pouring all my energy into work. I’ll embrace the woman I’ve become, moving forward without holding myself back. This is the year I claim what’s meant for me.

I’ve spent the last several years healing, and to be honest, I’m in a much better place now than I was two years ago. The winter of 2023 was my lowest point, at least mentally. And I spent all of 2024 putting myself back together, taking the first steps of embracing my wants and needs.

Just as the sun will eventually break through the haze and touch the glassy water, I know the things I want for 2025 will come to me. This is my year, and I’m ready for it.