What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?
Last night, I talked to my brother about his life growing up in Tijuana — sleeping on a concrete floor with just a pillow and a blanket. Selling clothes and shoes on the street. Getting robbed. Tires slashed. Bullied in school. Living through things that make a person question their worth.
He told me about a day, not long ago, when he was sitting at a KFC in Mexico with his girlfriend. A little boy walked up, trying to sell chocolates. His lips were dry and cracked, and he said, “Can you please buy these so I can eat?”
My brother said, “I won’t buy the chocolates — I’ll buy you a meal.”
The kid looked at him and asked, “Are you for real?”
When the food came, the boy began to cry — not soft tears, but the kind that shake your whole body. My brother said he tried to keep it together, but he could feel the past rising in him. That boy was him, years ago — hungry, invisible, and still hoping for kindness.
That story stuck with me.
The biggest risk I’d like to take isn’t about fame, comfort, or approval.
It’s to build something that lasts — a business that doesn’t just fill my pocket, but creates opportunity.
I want to help people like that kid — not by handing them money, but by giving them the tools to earn, to stand, to believe they can rise again.
Maybe that sounds impossible.
But if there’s one risk worth taking, it’s the kind that helps someone else eat, work, and dream.
Leave a Reply