Wednesday, November 07, 2012

The Power of Heroes

I once tied a towel around my neck and stood in the second story window of my parent's house. I was going to save the world, but first someone had to save me. It wasn't going to be my older brother; he was cheering me on. My father was busy building bridges and my mother was scrambling to keep up with my little brother. No, my hero was the shirtless grumpy old man across the street that simply yelled at me to get my stupid butt back inside. I never thanked him for saving my life that day; in fact, I'm pretty sure I egged his house later that year.


Nightsky said...

Well its clear he did not kill your imagination :-)

Little Dog said...

Thankfully my imagination carries the scars of time lightly. I've kept it safe with a protective layer of childish behavior and irresponsible whimsy. This has resulted, of course, in my bumbling through adult life with less to show but more to share.