Writen by Christina Oliver.
Myself and my family, looked up at the sign on the facade’ of the building that said “Golden Corral.“ Upon further inspection, we saw up above the sign sat a bird nest. Right below the sign on the sidewalk, was a little bird that was probably only a couple of hours old.
Unfortunately, my Son saw it and asked about it.
He says, “Oh no! It’s sick. I love it.”
He didn’t realize it was dead.
For a minute it brought me back to reality. It reminded me that we are not promised tomorrow.
What hopes and dreams did this little bird have? Such a young life cut short?
If my life was cut short tomorrow, what hopes and dreams would be lost? What things would die in my heart, when my family would bury me in the ground?
Books never read, words never written. A story left untold. This is my greatest fear. That the words I carry in my heart will die along with me.
The fear I felt when I was younger is gone. No longer do I fear failure. I am just like that bird that was trying to fly. I failed. Perhaps not on the scale that he had, for his was a failure of epic proportions.
I am finally beginning to spread my wings, the wings that I never had before. It was my son who gave me that ability. The ability to see the world in a different manner. He allowed me to soar.
I want him to know that no dream is too big, even though he is small.
The greatest gift was that I failed, because if I hadn’t, I might not be writing at this post at all.
What is your greatest fear as a writer?