I’ve been called a rebel all of my life. Not in some civil disobedience kind of way, but more as a personal way of life. If my Dad were here today, he’d surely corroborate! Much to his chagrin, I was the defender of everything he was not. I spouted naive half-truths and interrupted his logic with my sassy mouth and always had to have the last word. (Sassy was also my nickname.) I fought hard for equality and women's rights and would have burned my bra if only I had one on. I pushed dress codes and curfews just because I could. I took all dares and expressed my opinions whether you were interested or not. I love a good debate. But…so….does that make me a rebel? Well, these days with my adult tact in place, I like to imagine myself as aware, strong willed and free spirited-and not nearly as sassy.
I’ve learned the lessons I was trying to be taught. Shut up and listen. Think before you speak, or sass. Walk a mile in another’s shoes. Be compassionate and considerate. Don’t take things so seriously-or personally. Do the best you can. I’m still an old school rebel and I always will be.
How am I doin’, Dad? I’ll let you have the last word. Signed:your sassy rebel. XO
No comments:
Post a Comment