~Now Playing: Kryptonite-3 Doors Down~
Who is your hero? Looking back on the '80's in my last post reminded me of Super Man. Not the movie, my brother, the man. Okay he's not exactly impermeable but he is still the closest I have ever seen. Which of course leads me to wonder who was your Super Man growing up?
That person who would sweep in just as the curtains began to fall around your throat and save you from death's grasp. I suppose I should divulge a bit to clarify my meaning. Born the middle of five, I was the first girl after two brothers, my sisters came later. In a way it explains a lot about my personality. The youngest of my natural father's kids, the oldest girl, and smack dab in the middle of everyone, yep I'm everything. In a way I wonder if the stars were preparing me for a life full of being everything, but that is for a different blog.
My earliest childhood memories are of looking up to my brothers.They were only a year apart in age but there is seven years between me and my oldest brother so, needless to say, they were my babysitters. To phrase it more correctly they allowed me to tag along and attempted to return home with me alive at the end of each day.When your small the world feels so big. Looking up at them I could have sworn their heads actually touched the sky, and their feet, which happened to be much closer to my vantage point, looked like the Jolly Green Giants. No they really are not freakishly large, but back then I thought for sure they were over ten feet tall.
The youngest of my two brothers, being the youngest, always seemed to be the one to get stuck keeping me alive the most. It is kind of funny, looking back over the last thirty-ish (nope not telling, but it is a whole number)years of life, he never really stopped.
We are both grown and live on separate sides of the country, but even now he is patiently waiting for me to do a head dive off of the ten speed's handle bars so he can scoop me up and rush me to safety. That is the best kind of hero possible in my opinion. The one that is willing to wait, watch, let you fall a little, and then help you back on your feet.
For anyone who knows me in my other life, they know I have a lot of scars, usually well hid, but present none the less. Each well earned scar has a super man behind it. From the first one when my rocking horse bucked me and sent me to the ER for my first set of stitches, to the ones on the inside that only he understands.
This blog I dedicate to my Super Man, my big brother Eric, the the first E.T., the one who taught me how to wire speakers so my heart would jump, rebuild and paint cars, climb a tree, catch earthworms, smile when I felt like dying, rescued me when the world forgot, pushed me to graduate when I felt like quiting, listened even though I wouldn't stop talking.
You are my brother by birth, my hero by choice.