I was walking down the stairs at my parents’ house in Youngstown when I realized something monumental—something that perhaps I never realized before:

There’s no need for me to base my standard of success on my parents.

There’s no need for me to use their criteria to judge whether I’ve done well. It’s only my standards that matter.

The only person who counts, in judging my success, is me.

My parents have always been incredibly insightful and supportive, but (like any other kid on the planet) I’ve often felt like they kind of… don’t get it. Even now, at 27 (and maybe more than ever), they sometimes respond in perplexing ways. They’re just different people. More and more, I seem to want them to understand what I’m doing, why it’s wonderful.

But… I guess they don’t need to.

My parents are a little like the soil I grew in. The soil doesn’t have to be like the fruit. The soil serves a different purpose. If my parents were the fruit, I couldn’t have grown in them in the first place!

So it’s incredibly good that they are who and what they are. They have given me amazing things to learn from and work with, even if I get frustrated when they’re not just like me.

It’s the lot of every child in the universe, to be different.

Our parents don’t have to be like us.

It’s enough that they grew us, and that we are awesome.

Okay. I get it.