I used to have heroes

I used to have heroes.

My father was a hero. Tall, strong, with wide shoulders that carried the insurmountable burdens, both heavy and light with a smile. A smile that light up the house like a moon in the night. He was the reason that our life turned to be successful.

My mother was a hero. Kind, beautiful, stern. She was the light that guide through the dark, with endless patience and understanding of her children. She was the reason we learned to be happy.

I used to have heroes. Heroes that weren’t considered heroes. The people that hated me, the people that dislike me. They were the painful part of my existence at one point but they were what made me grow.

I used to have heroes. People who guide me, gave me wisdom when I needed to. They weren’t my parents but they took the effort.

What made up the my life was an array of heroes, both disguised as tragedy and bliss. What made a human who he is today isn’t a one man job but a thousand men.

I used to have heroes and I’m glad to know that they were in my life once a upon a time, carving out the beauty that I would represent in my life.

Thank you, my past heroes.