My Hero

MY HERO
By: Bri Eldredge



Who is my hero? Blank slate. I shut my eyes, squeezing them tight until I see stars.
Nothing.
But sometimes my brain is smart. It thinks of what a hero is. I wonder if I have a hero. If I did, what would that person be like?
My brain gets excited and rapidly thinks.
‘Slow down’ I gently command my brain.
I grab a pen. I start to write…
My hero is someone who is always there. A splendid listener, they are always aware when I am having a tough day. They know the exact words to say, and know even better which words are better left unspoken. They would give the most meaningful hugs, never abusing that comforting assurance. They would stand up for me, yet know when it is essential to let me fight on my own.
This person would be my best friend. The older brother I’d always hoped for. He would know my fears, dreams and sorrows like the back of his hand. He would make me want to be a better person. We would cheer each other on and seek out inspiration that slowly leads to our changing the world… We would change the world.
My hero would be such a person that does quiet deeds that nobody ever finds out. He shows kindness, integrity and love in all that he does. Yet, he would be strong, defiant and solid. He wants to see me succeed, and therefore encourages me to be my best. To never give up and reminds me to smile. He teaches me not to slack. Not one of my ambitions- be it small or large- are “just a dream” to him.
He’d always be there to play catch with, race me, have a Butterfinger milkshake with tons of whipped cream, face my fears and have intelligent conversations with. He would teach me how to do a back flip and then let me think I can do one better than he can. We’d make cookies loaded with chocolate chips together and picturesquely sit Indian style in front of the oven, making sure our masterpiece didn’t burn. We’d spent the next day sick from eating too much cookie dough. At Wal*Mart, we’d pretend we’re British. We’d yell at the biased Ref at a football game together. We’d get up at 5am one morning just to see the sun rise. And we’d spend a night marveling at the brilliant canopy of stars just above us…

Now my brain thinks of what the world views as a hero. Those heroes save the day and rescue the princess. And for once, I agree with the world.
You see, my hero would rescue me and save the day just like Superman. Just in ways apparent to me. Especially for me; publicly unnoticed. That’s why he would be my hero. My hero…
So sometimes, when I lay in bed, brain relentlessly tossing around thoughts and ideas, I ask myself. Does such a person even exist? Am I merely asking too much?
I don’t have to think too hard. I do have a hero.
My best friend.
He is my hero.