Punishment

My Aunt Joe used to give me punishment with a smile on her face. Two scoops of vanilla bean ice cream. She called it punishment because it was so good, it made you feel bad when you were finished. The word dessert just didn't make the cut. 

 

Every time we ran into my Aunts kitchen, we had a choice to make. We could have our vanilla ice cream and feel bad when we finished, or we could be silly enough to say no to her and watch as the entire family scraped their bowls clean. I think we follow our passions the same way, because we know we love ice cream, but now we have to pay for it. 

 

That was way over 10 years ago. But she pretty much hit the nail on the head in describing how the 23 year old me feels right now.  

 

My Aunt taught me indirectly, that finding your path in life is a lot like punishment. It's bittersweet because it's not uncommon to have mixed feelings about doing what we know we want to do. The only real punishment is in watching everyone else scrape their bowls clean. Whether it's writing, teaching, or giving in and having dessert. The only solution is to plunge into uncertainty, because not jumping, always hurts more.

 

 One thing is for sure, ice cream melts. And deciding not to have it always feels worse than finishing the last scoop. That is why I decided to start a blog, because the feeling of not writing, to me, was always worse than running out of things to say.