There’s something touching about watching a child prepare for their first day of school. The careful selection of the perfect outfit, laid out the night before. The new backpack, zipped and unzipped a dozen times to make sure everything fits just right. The quiet rehearsal of walking to the bus stop, just to be certain they know the way.
Most of us remember our own version of this ritual. Maybe it was practicing a locker combination all summer long, terrified of fumbling with it in a crowded hallway. Or memorizing the route between classrooms, worried about being late and having everyone stare. Those seemingly small preparations felt monumentally important because, to a young mind, they were.
What strikes me now is how we adults sometimes forget what it feels like to face something completely unknown. When did we stop remembering that every “first time” requires a special kind of courage? That six-year-old practicing their walk to the bus stop is doing exactly what we all do when facing the uncertain – finding one small thing they can control and mastering it.
The truth is, we never really outgrow those first–day butterflies. Starting a new job, moving to a new town, walking into a room full of strangers – that same flutter of uncertainty is still there. The same need to prepare, to practice, to feel ready for what we can’t possibly predict.
Maybe that’s what courage really looks like. Not the absence of fear, but the willingness to take the first step anyway, even when your heart is racing and you’re not entirely sure what comes next.
After all, we were all beginners once.
Ingredients (serves 4):