The older I get, the more I realize that there are dreams we’ve carried with us for a long time—sometimes for so long that we almost forget they’re there, tucked away in the corners of our hearts. For me, one of those dreams has always been to expand my art, to see it take on a new life in products that people can hold, use, and treasure. It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, and honestly, it didn’t come without a fair amount of fear. But as I’m approaching my 50th birthday, it feels like now or never.
This journey isn’t just about art; it’s about honoring a deep connection to something personal and meaningful. Growing up, I spent so many hours in my grandmother’s house - where the warmth of her presence was wrapped up in the things she surrounded herself with vintage textiles, handmade trinkets, and the quiet hum of a space filled with history. That feeling, the sense of belonging and memory, has stayed with me all these years. And now, I get to bring that energy back to life through the products I create—items that hold space for me and, hopefully, for others too.
It’s been an emotional ride, balancing this dream with the realities of life - working with my clients, raising my kids, and trying to keep my creative spirit alive in the midst of everything. But here's the thing: I’ve realized that we don’t have to wait for the "perfect moment." If anything, there’s no perfect moment, and there’s no blueprint for how it all “should” go. If I’ve learned anything from the past few months, it’s that you just have to take that first step. And then another. And another. Slowly, steadily. The process might be slow, but it’s always moving forward.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t scary. There are so many “what ifs”—the doubts, the fears of failure, the thoughts of what others might think, the anxiety over whether I can juggle everything. And yet, I know one thing for sure: there’s something powerful about leaning into the unknown. It’s okay not to have all the answers. It’s OK to not know exactly how it will work out. In fact, I’m not an expert in business, and I don’t know all the technical steps to make it happen—but I’m learning. Every single day.
The hardest part, for me, was looking at all the worst-case scenarios and asking myself: What is the worst thing that could happen? That’s when I realized that the risks, although real, weren’t as scary as I had imagined. And more importantly, focusing on the best-case scenario—the dream I’ve carried with me for so long—keeps me moving forward. There’s something freeing about embracing the uncertainty. Because sometimes, you have to go through the fear to get to the dream.
Starting a business isn’t about having it all figured out from the beginning. It’s about being open. About starting with your own community, people who believe in what you’re doing, who understand the heart behind your work. And for me, that’s been key. My art, these products, are part of a larger story—and it’s a story that I want to share with people who get it, who see the value in things that are made with love, intention, and meaning.
Here’s to starting new chapters, even when the pages are blank, and to trust that the journey will unfold as it’s meant to. The dream may not look exactly like you imagined it, but that’s what makes it all the more beautiful.
Click to visit my store: Yellow Fields of Memory on Etsy.
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