Painting by Doug Miller for story of Jennifer Porter
I don't even remember who lived in the house on the corner; it was just sitting there. Every now and then a breeze would blow by and wisp the leaves over the lawn, filling it up more with bright colors. It was fall and the front yard was covered in leaves from the big tree. I was five years old and as I recollect this memory I can still remember the great experience I had. One afternoon my family and I drove over to this place. Soon rakes and bags were unloaded and we got to work. Before long we had the whole yard picked up, and we began packing up. As we drove away I remember feeling so great about myself, what we had done, it was great. We didn't get praise and we didn't need it, nor want it. I know someone else who probably feels this way all the time: my hero.
Night after night, day after day, I come home and go about doing things, never really noticing my surroundings. Sure I'll spot if the room is a different color, but sometimes I don't see the little things: a swept floor, clean bathroom; things like that. However, they do get done. My mom is usually the one doing them, my hero.
Each day she does a great deal for my family and me, and yet hardly asks for anything in return. She works hard to to keep the house in order and provide love and comfort to us all. There have been many occasions when I will go get a drink and find a cupboard full of clean dishes, but I will not stop and think who put them there and washed them. My mom is patient and works hard being a mother of five kids.
If ever I need help with homework, making a hard decision, my mom is by my side. Also, when there are times when I am sad and need someone to talk to, she is there for me. Her acts of love towards us make her a hero.
These actions she shows are not only towards me, though. Throughout my life I have seen her serve many others. I can remember when we, as a family, would go out and secretly rake a neighbor's lawn, or pull weeds. I, being a child, would always want to go up to the door and say, "Look what we did!" most likely looking for praise, but we never did that. And in not doing that we felt good about it, more than we would have in telling them.
There have also been many experiences when my family learned of another family who had very little for Christmas. My hero would be putting a basket together of children's toys and little knick-knacks for them. Secretly we would drop it off on the doorstep and drive off.
One definition of hero is: person admired for their bravery, great deeds or noble qualities. Many people are admired by others and that makes them a hero in their eyes. In my eyes my mom is a hero. She has noble qualities and has done great deeds - if it needs to be proven that she's a hero by definition. But, there are other things that can be said about a hero.
A hero is someone who is selfless and dependable, someone brave and quick-thinking. My hero is brave. More than once she has entered my room and if that's not brave, she has even picked up my mess. She is very dependable. This has proven itself in many situations. Whenever I am sick she nurses me and helps me get better. If I ever forget something and need it, she will bring it to me. I know she always has time to listen and I can depend on her to always be there for me. I can depend on her to stay up late worrying for me. Now, for selflessness and quick-thinking, if she's not, I don't know who is. She is always willing to help others; most of her time is spent serving others. My hero thinks quickly alright! If I don't know what to do during the day, she can come up with something for me to do, whether I like it, or not.
There are many heroes in the world, my mom is one of them. I look up to her and am so glad she is in my life. In my eyes she has done so much for me and others. This is why she is a hero.
Page created on 8/27/2009 10:59:25 AM
Last edited 8/30/2018 4:24:30 PM