My Dad is an engineer. Our Father-Daughter talks usually consist of some kind of motorhead topic or something to do with NASA satellite design and its best suited orbit to be pondered on while doing some kind of manual labor work like post hole digging for a fence of his own design. When youre raised by a man who doesnt use touchy feely words to describe {cough*} feelings it translates into there is no such thing as Daddys little girl or princess growing up. I am my fathers daughter. I wore his smallest pair of work gloves. While I never planned on postponing my undergrad for a year because of the challenges (residency rules being what they are and such) in relocating from Chicago to DC, Ive decided to take advantage of this year off to travel, become Pilates Certified and volunteer with the Red Cross at the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. When I explained this to my Dad in our talk today I thought he was going to be disappointed in postponing my academics, so I braced myself for a life lecture. He applauded me instead. To paraphrase him, the frustration in my tone with having to start all over in a new area wasnt as noticeable in comparison to how excited I became when I talked about having the opportunity for doing great things through the Red Cross at Walter Reed. He felt this new path was really the best for me despite having to postpone completing my undergrad because while working my butt off to achieve higher grades was gratifying, it did nothing to feed my soul. Being how physical therapy and helping others was my passion, to have that kind of drive, he could tell how right now my soul was starving. What better way to feed it than with such a buffet? Its one thing to know Im hungry and its another to know how hungry my soul is. I had a huge smile on my face, Thank you, Dad, for understanding me.
Posted on: Sun, 13 Apr 2014 05:20:10 +0000
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