I Can Take Away Your Pain
Hero is such an ideal word. When I think of a hero, I think of firefighters on 9/11 and fourth graders giving presentations. When I was in fourth grade my hero was my dad because he supported my family.
My nuclear family is gone and I am left with people I am related to, people who tell me to work harder or change my major or ask me for money. It is no longer easy to remember who my hero is or was or why I ever needed other people.
I sometimes believe that other people are just superfluous, a means to an end, and not worth my time. Sometimes, I believe that my interactions with other people are only for their benefit, that my generosity is prevalent. I hardly ever find myself on the receiving end.
But when I do, I am reminded again of my heroes. My heroes are the men and women in my life who recognize my plight and constantly remind me that no man is an island.
I did laundry a few weeks ago. I put my clothes in the dryer and left for a busy day of class and work. Returning home late that evening, I decided to put off laundry folding for the next day because I was too tired. However, everyday was the same and I would return home exhausted from a 9 a.m.-to-12 a.m. day. The laundry was discouraging. It taunted me from the top of the dryer, telling me I was too busy, that I had too many clothes and that I didn’t have time for life anymore. I would finish the next pressing thing—a paper, a deadline, an apology—and there would be the next thing. There was never time to simply fold the laundry.
One morning I woke up, stumbled out of bed and into the hall to get coffee. On the floor before me were my clothes, folded neatly in piles, looking up at me, no longer taunting. One of my roommates had folded them while watching the early morning news. It was a simple task for her but it meant the world to me. It was a heroic act. It helped me; it pulled me out from under a stale depression that was decapitating me from the clothes down.
My heroes are people like my roommate: people who fold my laundry when I just can’t do one more thing. They are the people who call me on a random Tuesday just to mention they have been praying for me. My heroes are the people who stop me from thinking so highly of myself and being so lonely in this world.