A taxi, a year, and the gift of transformation: end-of-year editorial for Journal of Nephrology

“This year has gone by too fast”, said the taxi driver. She was plump, blond, and Slovenian, smiling like someone who holds small wisdoms in her coat pocket. Outside, December lights trembled like stars caught low among buildings.

“And tell me,” she asked, eyes glinting in the mirror, “What did it give you, what did it take away from you?”

In novels and movies, taxi drivers often know more than their passengers [1, 2]. They belong to the streets, where years pass by in headlights and rain, where humanity reveals itself in fragments, small, unguarded truths exchanged between red lights. We spoke in the traffic jam, freely and softly. Some things said will remain forever in the warm, steamed-up silence of that car.

But there is one change we can and need to talk about. Like the year rushing past the window, Journal of Nephrology (JN) is transforming. A passage long prepared, and now real: as of January, JN will transfer to a new publisher, Oxford University Press. This choice aligns with the Italian Society of Nephrology’s dedication to freedom of science, independence from profit, and knowledge that flows clear like water, not fenced, not owned.

We, the current and the incoming Editor-in-chief, starting in July 2026, are both second-generation nephrologists, old enough to feel the weight of tradition, young enough to still believe in the future, and this moment feels like stepping into winter light. We believe in something simple and true, as was the conversation with the taxi driver: ending a cycle is part of life; ending it well, that is an art!

Ending well means gratitude. So we will start by lighting candles of thanks. To Patrizia Bianchi, who began this journey with us ten years ago, nurturing early thematic collections like seedlings in careful hands. To Sandra Lesny, young, bright, patient, who provided answers, ensured deadlines were met, and found solutions for JN as it was finding its soul. Their work kept the journal together when it wobbled and for that, we are truly grateful. To our editorial board, whose tireless work was guided not by profit but by belief, the belief that research has meaning, that beauty matters in science. To our highly treasured authors, who brought their ideas like wrapped gifts to JN: we have valued your work and have truly done our best to editorially support and develop it. We hope you have felt this and will continue to consider JN the right home for your ideas and work in the future.

To our reviewers, who read by lamplight, weekends, holidays, before dawn, while their children slept. We are well aware of that very hard work, even on Christmas Eves, and share our gratitude and the same passion, love, and care required to be editors and reviewers “improving manuscripts” rather than “evaluating manuscripts”.

Thanks to all of you: our JN has been a place where first-time authors feel joy like a heartbeat.

Your time and work brought us the first nephrology paper from Fiji. It opened pages to scientists from Israel and Palestine, Russia and Ukraine, reminding us that when war divides, science may still hold hands across it [3,4,5]. A journal is small, but peace begins in small doors left open.

These moments shaped who we are. Now, as we turn the page our journal will continue to live a mission and its vision of being a window. A window rooted in Italy and looking outward at the wider world. A generous window, open to new voices, new continents, new ideas [6]. A journal that breathes. A journal that helps. A journal with light in it.

The time is ripe to further unite rigor with imagination, precision with wonder, science with story. And as we step into a new year, we remember our taxi driver and that unexpected embrace in the cold night, warm as bread and brave as hope. Let that hug be our Christmas blessing to you (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1