My Hero

 Growing up, my dad was always my hero. He was the one I looked up to, the one I wanted to be like when I grew up. He had strong, broad shoulders that I knew I could always lean on. He was always there to listen to my troubles, and he was always honest with me. He valued truth and integrity, and while he could be stern at times, he never judged me too harshly. He was always there to help, and he always made it clear that I could confide in him, go to him, or even live with him if I needed to.

But as much as I loved my dad, there was one thing that always seemed to be missing in my life, and that was proximity. He always lived too far away, and I felt like that was a great mistake in my life. Living far from family is something that I believe is one of our society's downfalls. Family splits are the worst, and I missed him dearly every day.

I remember the first time I saw him smile, it was wide and genuine and it was contagious, the way it was able to light up the room. The way he laughed was also special, loud and boisterous, and it was a sound that I could always pick out of a crowd. I remember thinking that I wanted to have that kind of smile and laugh when I grew up.

But despite all of this, I knew that I could always count on him. He was always just a phone call away, and I knew that if I ever needed him, he would be there for me. And so, I hold on to that thought, that whenever I needed him, he would be there for me, just like he always had been.