The Choice of One's Heart

Parents are very fierce on expectations by holding the rod.... they mean well, but they crush or ignore their teens' wishes; not all are meant for professional careers, others choose trades to express themselves in the best ways they know how. My dad wanted me to be an aircraft engineer, but I rebelled and chose a writing career; I disappointed him a lot by disobeying... but as much as I love airplanes, I prefer writing. I envision those airplanes as thoughts traveling through space on floating clouds, and they are lovely indeed...like the fearless birds flying past the hazy horizon; I wonder how any pilot finds the courage to fly them without looking down... I peaked through that window: all I saw was a blue Earth with majestic mountains. Being a writer is not a guaranteed profession, or a tale from rags to riches... its the happiest one, but it's full of personal satisfaction and self esteem; there's none like it, and on that expectation, I've built my childhood long dream, but the biggest thrill of all is to see your words translated in many languages. Sadly, my dad passed away and his bitterness I recall with pain; it wasn't an act of disobedience, but a matter of choice, or even worthiness, and the choice of one's heart always seems to be the right one! Can anyone among you see my refusal as betrayal, or a desire for greatness?