I stared down at the chuckling baby wondering why she was so entertained that she just pooped on herself and that I had to scoop up the fierce toxins with wipes as my weapons of my disgrace. This “business” was a health hazard that for some reason delivered the vibe of a stand-up comedy show to my baby sister, Destiny. No person should have to come in contact with this garbage with only an anti-bacterial wipe to shield them, but in order to go over to Deanna’s house I had to encounter that process. I decided to just get the gruesome deed over with; I grabbed an elastic headband to block my airways from Destiny’s weapon of mass destruction cradled in a Mickey Mouse Pamper and pulled out my only hope of sanitized surroundings, a diminutive baby wipe. I wiped the tarnished baby flabbergasted that an infant could produce this just by eating watered down green beans and Graduate Sweet Potatoes.
Despite that changing Destiny’s diapers isn’t the most sacrificial event that I generally do, I believe that it’s a prime representation of an important value of life and human nature. I’m not referring to 3-hour-old green beans plastered onto a Hanes diaper, I’m referring to dedication. That daily, sometimes unrecognizable, routine that humans put themselves through for the promoting feeling that we label success, accomplishment, and sometimes just another stepping stone to a bigger aspiration. Every age group of the human species applies dedication to themselves and others. Like the time we save up our $2 weekly allowance to buy the pack of crayons with the exclusive crayon sharpener. Unsuccessful lemonade stands, and reluctantly giving my favorite stuffed animals up for adoption at a low, undeserving price were the inputs that reflected the output of sixty four crayons dwindling to thirty two from the vortex under my bed. Now these are just my sacrificial times at age six but I’m sure people can relate to going to great extents to get what you want.
Dedication can vary in the amount of desire, the outcome, the whole situation, and obviously, the people. That’s the best part of dedication, you can have that same daily habit, yet your case can be polar opposite to someone else’s. For example, when I was saving up for crayons, I had friends passionate about hot wheels and play-dough. Those are just juvenile things but later years can reflect upon that comparison.
In the mid-trimester of fourth grade, the school buzz was the latest library announcement that had me blinded to everything besides my eventual acts of victory. The academic challenge was to read all twenty Mark Twain Award Nominees so that we got the privilege to scavenge the roots of Mark Twain himself; Hannibal, Missouri. By putting all else at ease, reading these books transitioned into a hobby rather than a necessity. Being a bookworm became my nine to five occupation that was nonetheless, underpaid. My clever “nicknames” from school did not fog my visions of glory. Hannibal, Missouri became the 8th wonder of the world for me and I was bound to be able to say I visited there. I even wanted one of those “someone who loves me very much got me this t-shirt” t-shirts. Little did I know, that corny t-shirt was just a mere symbol of my dedication. I became the first girl in my school to make the trip, went on the memorable vacation, and even got my t-shirt.
Dedication is a rewarding habit that no matter what the tangible prize is, you earn a diligence that can be applied to every aspect of your life.