I believe in heroes. I believe in Superman, Spiderman, and Captain America. I believe that we all possess some sort of super power. I’m not talking about x-ray vision or the ability to fly but those types of powers that push us through the hardest moments in life.
I was nineteen, not married, and just lost my athletic scholarship when I had my first child. Maybe that’s not considered young nowadays but I was definitely not ready for a child. I feared that upon telling my parents about the pregnancy they would hate me even more, since they had already known about the loss of my scholarship. Something big happened that day and every day since then. While my mother sat there in silence and crying, my father became a hero. He said what I had been longing to hear for years. He said, “I love you”. These words were not used very often in my house. So to hear him say those three little words just melted my heart.
Learning from him I then became my own hero. I have pushed my way through having a child at the age of nineteen. I have pushed my way through school. I have pushed my way through hard times in life, living on welfare, giving up my dreams for my child. I have learned from the best. Then the tables turned, because my father became a hero again. Not many people get to experience heroism twice in their life.
At the age of thirty and married with two children, I was giving a gift to play college soccer on a full scholarship. So many doubts ran through my mind about not being in shape, about playing with eighteen year olds, and about going back to school. “You can do this. You are good enough to play and I believe in you”. Those were my father’s words to me. Again he is a hero. My hero.
People have different ideas of what heroes are. Some are strong, some are kind, and some even make miracles happen. Heroes are everywhere if we just take the time to stop and smell the roses once in awhile. My hero is one who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. He is my Superman!
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