This weekend I stood in my mother-in-law’s garden as she celebrated her eightieth birthday. There was a garden party for her closest friends, dinners with family, and finally a home-cooked meal to bring the birthday celebration to a close. Somewhere between the conversations and the laughter, I met the newest member of our family for the first time. A beautiful baby boy, only a few months old, passed gently from one pair of arms to another.
My own grandson is two and a half now. It doesn’t seem that long ago he was that same tiny bundle everyone wanted to hold.
I’ve heard people talk about the circle of life more times than I can count. I’ve probably said it myself, in the casual way we all do. This weekend it felt different. Standing in that garden, I wasn’t thinking about a phrase. I was watching it happen. A newborn at one end of life. My mother-in-law celebrating eighty years at the other. Four generations together in one place, each at a completely different stage, yet all part of the same story.
Somewhere during that afternoon, I realised I’d started thinking about my own business in exactly the same way.
I spent more than thirty years in executive leadership. Years of decisions, responsibility, successes that opened doors and failures that taught me just as much. Every role added another layer of experience, although I don’t think I realised at the time quite how much I was collecting.
Now all of those years sit behind something entirely different.
This business is still young.
It’s easy to forget that when you’re building something of your own. We compare the beginning of one chapter with the maturity of another. We expect a business that’s only just finding its feet to behave like one that’s had years to earn trust, make mistakes, build a reputation and grow.
But nothing works like that.
Not people.
Not families.
Not careers.
And not businesses.
Looking around that garden this weekend, it suddenly felt obvious. The baby had only just begun his story. My grandson was discovering the world one question at a time. My mother-in-law carried eighty years of memories, friendships and experiences. And here I am, in my fifties, building something that’s entirely my own for the very first time.
Perhaps every stage of life asks something different of us. The beginning asks for patience. The middle asks for resilience. Later on, maybe it asks us to pass something on.
For now, I think my business is asking me for the same thing we’d give any newborn. Time to grow. Time to learn. Time to become what it’s capable of becoming.
If any part of this landed with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Simply hit reply. I read every single message.
Warmly,
Pia
I love this comparison 🫶🏽 it’s getting me to reevaluate how I move forward and where I should focus.
I’m into this because treating your business like something real is often just another way of saying you’re finally taking yourself seriously. And honestly, that shift can be uncomfortable when you’re used to improvising, doubting yourself, or making everything feel less important than it is. There’s a kind of dignity in refusing to keep playing small.