Who am I becoming? I find myself asking this on the cusp of entering 2026, standing at the threshold of a new chapter. I wrote the first lines of this piece late at night, aware of time in a way that felt both grounding and unsettling—not as certainty, but as the sense that something was ending, and something else was beginning. I’ve had the title Becoming Jane in my head since Jane Goodall passed last year, and I don’t really know why.