transformist, n.

It's Christmas Eve and our holiday transformation is complete. The house is clean, an act which was replaced by hours of studying this past semester. Sheets have been washed and beds remade. Windows usually covered in doggie nose prints have been wiped clean.

There is a beautiful, sparkling tree with a perfectly crooked star standing proudly in our front room, which has been modified into a dining area to accommodate family dinners while everyone is in town. The kitchen has become a baking center to create homemade gifts for our mail, trash and recycling men. Lights twinkle in the windows and a warm, glowing wreath greets guests on the front porch. It's silly, but every time I open the front door I have to smile as I am welcomed into another world, the feeling of adventure and possibility in the air.

Is this why we love the idea of transformation so much? The unlimited possibilities available to us at any given moment? A house transfigured into a winter wonderland. A goddess transformed into a tree. A peasant turned princess by the simple waving of a magic wand. If the world is fluid and we are all transformists, anything is possible, right?

Is that why love is such a strong magnet for so many people? Why some believe it is the key to unlocking their "true" selves? Why romance novels and romcoms are so unbelievably popular? This never-ending wish to grow beyond our earthly selves and embrace something bigger, something boundary-less. Something that encapsulates the eternal fluidity of the world in which we live - this constantly changing, evolving realm of possibilities.

I write, not to reflect what already exists, but to remind us that the world is endless and malleable, and we all have the potential to be transformists. Wishing you all a moment of endless possibility this holiday season.