My one-year-old has learned how to blow kisses.
But I’m not talking about sweet, innocent kisses, mind you. No, when my son blows kisses he’s not putting his lips to his hand to softly blow them at you.
He puts a finger in his mouth and hurls them at you. Seriously, you may want to duck. No, these are not sweet kisses, these are the French version of blowing kisses.
Now I’d like to say that he saves these kisses and gives them out sparingly, but that is not the case. The cashier at the grocery store? The lady at the dollar store that gave him a ballon? Why not? In fact he’ll blow French kisses at anyone in between the mention of “buh bye” and the car while simultaneously waving his arms more than a homecoming queen in a parade.
No, my one-year-old blows French kisses because he hasn’t quite learned about giving affection out sparingly. He certainly hasn’t learned what not to do in public. He’ll continue to sing after the songs in church have stopped. He’s not ashamed to wear PJs in public. He smiles after spitting up on the floor of the grocery store.
When I watched him blow French kisses to the cashier last week that had already moved on to the next customer, part of me started wishing I could be more like him. Well, I’ll save the kisses, but what’s wrong with waving to a complete stranger? Or singing when there’s no music?
At some point in our lives, we put what others think as a priority and that’s a shame. No, we shouldn’t kiss strangers, but why not wave and smile? Why not sing even if there’s no music?
As a teenager, this priority becomes a fear about fitting in, despite the fact that the people we remember the most are the ones who stand out. The ones who sing long after the music is gone and make your day just by going out of their way to smile and wave at you.
As a writer, this priority tends to manifest itself into fear. What if I write a book and no one reads it? Or worse, what if I write a book and someone does read it and absolutely hates it?
I’ve learned a lot during my first year as a mom, but the number one thing I’ve learned is to find joy in the little things—like light switches, toilet paper rolls and spinning around in circles, which, according to my son, are some of the coolest things ever. I’m beginning to remember why I wanted to be a writer in the first place and that fear of failure is beginning to shrink.
And it all started with a little kiss.
What about you? What fears are stopping you from reaching for your goals?