Tuesday, December 10, 2019

My Father, My Hero Essay Example For Students

My Father, My Hero Essay In our life, we have met so many people and usually they have a certain place in our heart or life. But have you ever you wonder who was the most favorite person to you? If someone ask me, my answer absolutely is a hero. And I call him â€Å"Daddy. † When I was a little girl, I was not interested in skirts, dresses, or dolls, or whatever girly stuff. But I love heroes. My favorite hero is my dad. He rescues me in hard situations, but instead of giving me wings, taking me to fly with him, he teaches me how to fly by my own wings without him. When I fall, instead of catching me before I fall, he picks me up, brushes me off and lets me try again. I remember the first day of school of mine, I was so nervous. I cried a lot when my dad took me to school. When we were at school, my dad held me tightly and said, â€Å"My little monkey, don’t worry. Daddy is always by your side. Now, let’s go and make some new friends. Daddy is always here for you, princess! † Then, he kissed me on forehead and let me go. At that time, to a seven-year-old girl, classroom is a huge place with many strange people and it was a little bit scared, at least to me. I thought, â€Å"Let go of my hero’s hand is not a lucid decision, absolutely. I should cry a little bit more, so Dad will come to that class with me. † And honestly, I felt great regretful. But then, I made some friends and had fun with them. The feeling of scare when I first came disappeared completely. I realized that the other kids who had their parents were next to seemed shy and I thought they haven’t had any new friends yet. At that moment, I felt comfortable and whispered to myself, â€Å"Thank you, Daddy. † However, hero sometimes get upset over something, so does my dad. When I was young, I was so anorexic because I found my toys and cartoon were more interesting than those beans and carrots in my bowl 92683 times. My dad knew it and he decided that there would be no more cartoon and toys during meals, unless I finished my bowl. It was not a good idea, it was unacceptable, it was illogical. And more than 2 times I wondered if Dad was turning to become an anti-hero (sorry Dad). But somehow, I still found some new miniature versions of my favorite superman after that. All of the bad mood was gone and I went back to love my dad, he was not an anti-hero anymore. I know it’s childish. I don’t know if heroes on the movie knew how to go fishing and lots of amazing things about life or not, but my dad does. He teaches me how to fish well, how to play ping pong, how to swim. He teaches me never to take life for granted, to live a little, to love with everything I had, to never give up, to believe in myself, to be strong, nice, and independent. But most of all, he wants me to happy, always. When I was in middle school, I dreamed to study abroad. My dad knew it. He supported me a lot and when I had turned to 17 for 4 months, he let me fly with my dream. A couple weeks before the day I left, I overheard my mom talked to my dad, â€Å"I just can’t set my mind at rest for a second, honey. She’s just 17. I don’t feel secure to let our daughter go that far. How can she take care of herself by her own without us? How can she cook by herself? Can she get used to the new place? How can she do when she gets sick? I just can’t stop worrying. Or can we just forget about the flight, she’s still doing well here, huh? †, and my mom started sobbing. The expression on my dad’s face changed a little bit, was like he tried to keep back inside, tried to be strong so my mom could feel better. .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .postImageUrl , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:hover , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:visited , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:active { border:0!important; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:active , .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253 .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u624e8c910d32338b722c6f397a0fd253:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Media Essay SummaryThen, he hugged my mom tightly, â€Å"I know, honey. I’m worried, too. But it’s our daughter’s dream. I don’t want her to give up what she really want, I want her to find her path, create it with passion. It’s not fair for her if we keep her stay here just because we don’t know if she could do a good job or not. We should believe in our daughter, honey. She will take a good care of all of those things. † I saw my dad tried to keep back his tears, while my mom’s shoulder kept trembling in his arms. â€Å"Heroes don’t always have shiny armors†, I thought and quickly wiped the tears on my face. Then I smiled, and left. I know some people don’t believe in heroes and superman, but they haven’t met my dad yet. He’s my favorite superhero. He gives me the greatest gift that anyone could give another person: he believes in me. When I feel like the world turn their backs against me, my dad still be there for me. If you were me, you would see how meaningful it could be, at the moments when you know in this big world, there is someone still on your side, trusts you no matter what. Sometimes, I just don’t like the idea of growing up, so my dad won’t grow old anymore. Then, I can say I love him every day, till forever ends.

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