Once every white girl turns 18, they get a tattoo. For the most part the tattoos are either an anchor, an infinity sign, or something cliché a white girl would get as her first tattoo. Before I turned 18, I knew I was going to fit right in that stereotype and get a tattoo right on my 18^th birthday.

I wanted something different, something that not everyone has. I knew I wanted something that related back to my family, because my family has gotten me through so much in life. Right after graduation, I decided what I wanted to get. I decided that I was going to get “keep fighting” on my arm in my dad’s hand writing.

For my graduation, he wrote me a letter, and his last sentence was ‘Keep fighting”. The moment I saw it, I knew that I was going to get that forever inked into my skin. I didn’t tell my dad until the day before my birthday, which was the day before I was going to get it. He is against tattoos, but when I told him he was surprisingly okay with it.

The day had come, and I was sitting in the tattoo parlor. I was so anxious, and couldn’t believe that I was about to get a tattoo. When the artist had printed out the sketch, I was so excited. I had it placed on my right forearm, because I wanted to be reminded of it every day. After getting the stencil placed on my arm, it was time to get tatted.

After the pain was over, I looked at my arm, and just started crying, I was full of emotions. My dad is such an important person in my life, and I couldn’t imagine where I would be if I didn’t have him by my side, cheering me on.

Now that I am away from home, and don’t see my dad as much as I did, I still have a piece of him. When I fall down, or when I am going through a tough time, I look at my arm and think of my dad telling me to continue to fight on. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be in college, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

Thanks, daddio. I love you!