Although no one has officially stated it, 2025 has certainly been an exceptional year for comets. There’s Comet Lemon, discovered in January and making headlines for nine months. Each time I encountered that striking long tail formed by the comet’s solar heat, I was captivated.

In September, C/2025 R2 (SWAN) was discovered, radiantly bright even when near the moon on Halloween, making it easily visible. Then came Comet 3I/Atlas, which gained notoriety after a Harvard astronomer—primarily a cosmologist—identified it as an alien probe.

As a cosmologist who recognizes my limited expertise in comet studies, I fully trust the specialists asserting that Comet 3I/Atlas is not some extraterrestrial object. This isn’t a regret; this comet is still scientifically intriguing. Unlike lemons and SWANs, it hails from beyond our solar system, categorizing Comet 3I/Atlas as an interstellar comet.

Its entry into our solar system offers a thrilling opportunity. While pinpointing its exact trajectory may be unattainable, its composition can reveal a wealth of information about its parent star. Essentially, we can learn about the makeup of an enigmatic star even when its identity remains unknown.

Our expedition with this year’s comet reflects a long historical pattern of human fascination with enigmatic celestial phenomena. Most notably, Halley’s Comet’s passage in 1066 was illustrated in the Bayeux Tapestry, symbolizing the onset of the Norman invasion of England. Nowadays, we understand that humanity is not the universe’s focal point, and the universe lacks a center—but it’s easy to entertain the notion that the comet of 2025 could be conveying a message.

Reflecting on this year, filled with distressing and unfortunate occurrences, it’s tempting to ponder whether these comets hint at an impending apocalypse. The state of science in the United States faces turmoil, as the current administration cuts funding and initiatives (see page 20). Moreover, anti-immigrant sentiments have gained a mainstream foothold in both the United States and the United Kingdom.

As a Black and Jewish queer scientist, and an immigrant’s child, maintaining an open heart daily is a struggle. I recognize that there are those who wish to silence me. Contrary to my previous scientific education, I could interpret the comet as a sign to surrender. Yet, alternative paths exist. As a scientist, I perceive comets as sources of hope. They are breathtaking visual havens. The quest to observe them has fostered community. My astrophotography group eagerly anticipates sharing our experiences. While it’s frustrating to encounter rampant misinformation in various media concerning questions like “Are they aliens?”, I feel grateful that attention is being drawn to these phenomena.

For 2026, my aspirations are immense. Scientifically, I yearn for groundbreaking observations of dark matter. Socially, I aim to ensure that all children have access to essential resources—food, shelter, education, and healthcare—in environments that affirm their identities. While these are monumental dreams, they likely won’t manifest by year’s end. Nevertheless, comets remind us of the vast universe, brimming with marvelous surprises. Just as we strive to discover comets, we must also endeavor to create the better world we desire.