Ready or Not, Here I Come

A child’s game, a crowded playground, and the quiet courage to stop hiding.

Sometimes the widest open spaces remind us we no longer have to hide.

"Can we go home?"

After an hour at the park with my two grandsons, I heard the familiar question.

But I knew it wasn't really home calling.

It was screens.

The playground buzzed with energy. Kids raced from swings to monkey bars. Dogs barked. Bikes overflowed the crowded rack near the entrance. My grandsons had explored nearly every inch of the park before their enthusiasm began to fade.

"What if we played Hide and Seek?" I suggested.

Immediately they were off again.

They darted behind slides, ducked behind trees, and laughed every time someone was almost discovered.

Another half hour passed before Jude, the youngest, ran out of hiding places. His older brother had almost finished counting, and I could see the panic on Jude's face.

Then I looked toward the bike rack.

"Go stand right in the middle," I whispered. "Your bright shirt will blend right in. Don't hide. Just stand still."

He looked at me as though I had completely misunderstood the game.

Then he trusted me.

His brother searched everywhere.

He walked right past Jude more than once.

Jude stood perfectly still like a little totem pole, holding his breath until the giggles finally escaped.

That one idea stretched our afternoon another twenty minutes.

The retelling of that "epic hide" lasted even longer.

The next morning, standing in my studio with a paintbrush in my hand, those familiar words floated back into my thoughts.

Ready or not, here I come.

I've heard that phrase hundreds of times.

But this time it sounded different.

Maybe that's because so many of us spend our adult lives trying not to be seen.

We wait until we're more confident.

More talented.

More certain.

We tell ourselves we'll share our ideas someday.

We'll take the class.

Start the project.

Hang the painting.

Speak up.

When we're ready.

Children seem to understand something adults often forget.

Sometimes courage doesn't look like finding a better hiding place.

Sometimes courage is simply standing exactly where you are.

The older I get, the more I believe creativity works the same way.

It isn't about having everything figured out before we begin.

It's about showing up.

Making the first brushstroke.

Trying something new.

Trusting that joy often arrives before confidence does.

That morning I painted with a little more freedom than the day before.

Not because I suddenly felt fearless.

Because a little boy hiding in plain sight reminded me that maybe I didn't have to hide either.

Ready or not...

Here I come.