Corwin Collins

Most people have a hero, or someone they look up to. Not a hero like Captain America or Thor, but a real person that you know is good and will be there to take care of you. I didn't think I had a hero, but I thought it over. I realized who my true hero was. It was my grandpa, or as we call him, Papa.

What would you do if something really bad happened to your hero? Would you put your hands together and pray? Would you fall to your knees and weep? Well what happened to my hero made me do just that. When I was eleven years old, I came home from school one day to my mom telling me that Papa had been in an accident. She looked at me and said, "Emma, something happened to Papa." Immediately I could feel my rosy cheeks get pale as fear washed over me. "What happened?" I asked her, horrified. I felt like I could have just collapsed and started crying, and I didn't even know what had happened yet! That didn't matter.

"He was showing a few people a horse that was for sale," she said to me,"when something spooked the horse and bucked him off." Right then and there, I could feel my eyes filling up with tears. My papa was one of the closest people to my heart. If anything had ever happened to him, I would be devastated. "Is he okay?" I asked my mom. My voice was sounding a little shaky. "They took him to the hospital," she continued, "he has a punctured lung and he broke all of his ribs." I put my hand over my mouth as if I was trying to prevent myself from screaming. I tried to stay as calm as possible. "He's okay though," she assured me, "luckily someone was with him." "He could have died," I said as tears slowly rolled down my cheeks. All I was thinking was, 'Thank you God that someone was with him. Thank you God for not taking him. His life could have ended and I never would have had the chance to say goodbye or tell him that I love him.

I remember a few days later I got to talk to Papa. I just remember being happy. I stood there, anxiously waiting for him to say something on the other end of the phone. "Hello?" I heard a deep voice. "Hi Papa! It's Emma," I responded. "Well hi, Emma! How are you?" He asked me. He sounded like he was doing really well. "I'm doing alright," I told him,"but how are you doing? I heard about your accident."I couldn't wait for him to tell me how he had been. I missed him so much.

"Well, they told me that I broke ten ribs, and one of 'em poked a hole in my lung," he said to me slowly. He had that tone in his voice that he always had. That "Oh Well" kind of tone. "Ouch. That must have hurt really bad," I replied. "Yeah, it did, but I'm gonna be okay,"he told me. "Well that's good," I continued. "So what are you doing right now?" I asked. "Oh I'm just sitting here eating lunch," he said. "Ew. Hospital food," I joked around. "Yeah, it's not that bad," he kind of chuckled. I imagine it would have been difficult for him to actually laugh."They gave me baby back ribs," he continued, "isn't that funny? Here I am sitting in the hospital with all of my ribs broken, and they decide to give me baby back ribs for lunch. That's messed up,"

I started laughing with him. It had been so long since I had heard him laugh. Then he stopped laughing and said, "I miss you so much, Emma. My arms are sad because they haven't hugged you in so long." "My arms miss you too," I replied to him. "I love you, Emma," I heard him say. "I love you too, Papa," I said back.

That was the last thing I remember. Around Christmas time later that year, my papa was finally out of the hospital, and we could go for a visit. I remember seeing him when we got there. He walked slowly, and he had a tube of fluids coming out from under his plaid, button up shirt. I ran towards him and gave him a light hug. I tried not to hurt him anymore than he already was. "Papa, I missed you so much!" I squealed "I missed you too, Emma," he said to me slowly. "Are you okay?" I asked him. 'Well I'm walking aren't I?" He said to me in his deep voice.

I'm still happy to this day that someone was able to take my papa to the hospital. I never got to properly thank those men for doing so. Iif they weren't there, he might not have made it. I was born in my papa's house (don't worry, it was planned) in Arkansas. My papa is the man who helped me with my multiplication. He taught me how to ride a horse, and bought me Wendy's Frosties if I did a good job. My papa also told me once that cowgirls don't cry. I'll be honest, I haven't fully lived up to that phrase yet, but I'm working on it. And the most important thing that he told me was that when you die, make sure you die doing something you love. Papa is my hero, and I'm so glad that he is still here to watch me grow up and become the best young woman I can be.