"Don't you want to live until 95?" one of my father's employees asked me this morning in criticism of my smoking. I was down at the pharmacy getting a coke after a morning drive. I just had to get out of the house.
Well, Dad could see it visibly perturbed me. I was walking out the door when he grabbed me and pulled me to the side.
"She didn't mean anything by it," he said. "She just likes you. She wants what's best for you."
"I've just had so many people in my life telling me how to live. My blog. You and mom. Rosa. It is discouraging and it grows old."
Dad gave me a hug and told me to grin and bear it.
"And no. I wouldn't want to live to be a decrepit old ninety year old," I finally retorted.
Dad burst out laughing. "Now that is the Andrew I know and love. You were always fierce."
I got in my Honda and drove home. Seriously, I've had enough criticism in my short life to last a lifetime. I am frankly tired of it. I don't find it funny or endearing. I just want to be left alone to live my life as I see fit.