my hero

My Personal Hero
Everyone has a different opinion about what a hero is. They come in many shapes, sizes, different values, and beliefs. For me, a hero is someone who takes care of you and protects you. They will stop at nothing to provide you with the security of safety; and put your needs before their own. A hero doesn’t have to have impeccable character, high importance in society. A hero just needs to be someone who cares for your happiness and loves you for being yourself. My mother is my hero.
I didn’t realize until I was much older in life how much of a hero my mother was. I began to understand that the consequences and discipline inflicted on me was not in hatred, but to teach me life lessons. I remember when I was very young; I cut my hair and tried to hide it from my mom. It was obvious that I had cut my hair; it was so uneven and choppy. My mom was furious with me, especially because I lied to her. At the time I thought that she was overreacting. In reality she was teaching me to be honest, and that I did not have the skill to cut my own hair yet. Till this day mother’s lesson about life skills is continually exhibited in my teenage career. It is because of my mother’s lesson that I don’t lie and I go to the hair salon. Like the hard lesson of being punished for lying; doing my homework and chores before enjoying going out with friends is only second nature.
As my mom has gone out of her way to make sure my happiness is always fulfilled. During my childhood my favorite holiday was Christmas. Like every child, I used to wake up extra early on Christmas morning just to see what Santa had left under the tree. There was never a time where I had woken up to disappointing present-less stocking or missing the presents wrapped in red from Santa . She had really made me feel that this magical being was coming every year to drop off that present under the Christmas tree. What really made my mother an outstanding hero is that Santa’s presents were always ten times better than her own. She’d even act surprised when I beamed a huge smile after unwrapping the present to find the one toy I wanted. My mother is a hero in the sense that she didn’t hesitate to make me happy. She didn’t ask for anything in return for my glowing Christmas smile, or even dare to take credit for Santa’s doing. The satisfaction upon my face was all that was necessary to suffice my mother’s actions.
When I was about ten years old my mother had gotten me and my brother a big trampoline. A short time after I had fallen off while preforming a flip, and neglecting my mother’s warnings to be careful. This minor accident felt like I had broken every bone in my body. My mother knew that it was only a small cut and bruise and it would only take days for it to heal. However I insisted that I had broken my wrists and that we needed to go to the hospital. Without hesitation we got into the car and drove straight to the hospital. After spending hours in the emergency room, the doctor released me with only a few bandages. My heroic mother couldn’t protect me from the pain of getting hurt but she made sure that she did every possible thing to negate the effects. As my hero she comforted me when I was in pain, and when I needed her most. She was able to provide me with a sense of security giving me the confidence that everything would be alright.
My mother is a hero not because of what she offers to the world, but what she offers to me. She makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world. I know that she would drop anything in the world if it meant protecting me from being hurt. My mother has given me the knowledge required to be a successful productive member of society. She has taught me to love the skin that I’m in, and never to be afraid of expressing my personality. My mother is my hero and always will be.