This week’s Dungeon Prompt asks us to pay tribute to our heroes.
I already touched upon that idea in this post from February, so I’m going to focus on something different now.
Instead I’m going to inspect upon what it means to be a hero.
A lot of people seem to think that being a hero means we must do something extraordinary and that we must go above and beyond the call of duty to do something great.
Let me then pose this question: What if a person did what he/she felt must be done? What if acting in that fashion was a part of everyday life?
I’ve been face to face with my own feelings lately. I’ve always referred to myself as “one of the most boring and depressed people on Earth”. I’ve always felt that others probably think the same.
After my experiences of blogging and sharing my story with people, I’m beginning to see something else entirely.
After making YouTube videos, a lot of people told me that I was very brave for doing so. A lot of people told me they could relate to what I was talking about. I was shocked to say the least.
These comments have perhaps changed my idea of what it means to be a hero. Sometimes the most seemingly simple actions have the most profound effects.
Putting a smile on a child’s face may end up making their day. Giving up a seat for someone else might have been the only kind act that person has seen that day. Donating money to charity might build someone a new house or give a person their next meal. These acts are each heroic in their own way.
See, we each struggle in life. We all walk different paths, but we are still human. The heroes we all look up to are the ones who make life a little more bearable, whether it be parents, grandparents, or famous figures.
Surviving the trials and tribulations of life and living to tell about them is also heroic. So I think that in the end, we are all heroes in some way, even if we can’t see that.
I don’t feel like a poem is a fitting way to end my post this week. Instead, I’m going to end by paying tribute to someone who made my life a little brighter as a child.
I was just a child then, perhaps about 5 or 6. I had saved up enough money to buy something from the local store, so I bought myself a toy squirt gun.
I think it rained the day before or earlier that day, because I remember that there was puddles. I was playing near a puddle alone, drawing water from the puddle for my squirt gun.
I heard a car coming towards me a short time later. I ran out of the way, but in my haste, I left my squirt gun near the puddle. I heard the crunch as the car crushed my squirt gun. I was crying I think. The driver got out and promised me he would buy me a new one after comforting me.
A few days later, there was a knock at our door. Sure enough, there he was to deliver me a brand new squirt gun. I thanked him before he went on his way.