Rebel in the Night

The other night I was jolted from my peaceful sleep by a piercing noise. My first thought was that it was already 6AM and my alarm was going off. Frantically I mashed every single button as I tried to turn it off. Instead of eradicating the noise I ended up with two books, a lamp, and a cell phone on the floor. Standing there, confused and frantic, I realized that the noise was coming from my phone. Though the ring tone is ostensibly a melody, it seemed like a torturous siren. It made my ears throb.

Late night phone calls, though not a regular event, are far from a novelty for those in my demographic. As such, I presume many can probably sympathize with my state of utter confusion. Discounting the occasion that I almost punched a female “friend” who caught a ride home with a roommate after a night of drinking and decided to wake me up at 3AM, my late night wake ups are generally calm (explanation: the punch was almost thrown not because I disliked the person but because being woken up at 3AM when you aren't really expecting to is kind of freaky, especially when that person is more a stranger than a friend). As I lay back down to sleep that night, I was more than slightly dismayed at my crazed reaction to the midnight phone call.

My dismay was rooted in memories of my father. No matter the circumstances of the event or the time of night, whenever my siblings or I woke up my father, his reaction was always the same. In a state of confused alert he would bolt upright out of bed and frantically scan his surroundings trying to figure out what was happening. I saw my father in my reaction to the ringing phone.

For most of us, life is spent as an active pursuit of separation from our parents. This isn't necessarily born out of a distaste for those that brought us into this world but instead it is a quest for a unique identity. Unfortunately, it seems that the truth behind actions of separation and personal growth aren't always grasped by parent or child. It took me a long time to realize that. Though I seek to become known as my own person, I feel that I am finally coming to terms with all those traits I share with my parents. From my mother's emotionalism to my father's easily startled nature at night, I am a mess of quirks and idiosyncrasies. Paradoxically it seems that acceptance is the truer form of rebellion.