when i was 16 years old i thought i was going to be rich and famous. okay, maybe not so much rich but i was sure i was going to be famous. a famous writer living a bohemian existence in Greenwich Village or some other ‘cool’ place. living in a loft, penning deep and honest truths that just had to be told. having affairs, never marrying.
well, you get the idea.
suffice it to say, none of that happened.
but i still want to be famous.
i was thinking about this the other day, when my son said something that just knocked me off my feet.
he said, ‘you’re badass! you don’t realize just how tough you really are!’ (talking about the way i face what life has thrown at me lately. not earth shattering by any stretch of the imagination, but trying at times.)
and a light bulb went off in my head.
i AM famous…… maybe not in the textbook sense of the word, but famous in the sense that i am a significant role model to my family. to my kids.
that’s fame enough for me.
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