Red and Green

I have a hero. He’s not quite what you would imagine when one mentions a hero. In fact most people would think he’s pretty ordinary. He can’t leap over tall buildings. He definitely doesn’t have laser-vision, thank God. He doesn’t have a metal skeleton like Wolverine.

I met my hero when I was about 4 years old. I’m pretty positive that he doesn’t remember our first encounter though. I was pretty young at the time so my memory is a bit fuzzy around the edges too.

I remember when we went to Albuquerque for his surgery. He had Cerebral Palsy, a very mild form of Cerebral Palsy, and it had caused his legs to be pigeon-toed. He wasn’t able to walk very well, much less run. The doctors told us that they were going to cut his calves open and make a zig-zag incision in his tendons to stretch them out and hopefully help him to walk straight. When I heard they were going to cut him open I wanted to faint. I felt sick and nauseous and my palms were sweaty. I also knew it was going to be a big surgery because my Nana and Papa were coming. They lived in Arizona and that was at least 8 hours away.

When he went into the operation room I seem to remember him looking at me without fear in his eyes and (I hope I’m not making this up), he gave me a thumbs up with a smile. I think I was scared enough for the both of us. The hospital room seemed to be shouting scary things at me from every inch of its shiny white corridors. I could hear people screaming around the corner and one lady was crying a few seats over.

The surgery was successful. My hero came out later that day wearing his new casts that went from toe to knee, and due to the Christmas season at hand, one was green and the other was red. I jumped up and gave him a group hug with the giant stuffed mouse my grandparents had given him.

Christmas came and both my hero and I got new bikes. I remember, later that Christmas morning, going outside into the brisk weather and watching in wonder, my little brother get on that bike and ride it, without training wheels, while wearing his giant cumbersome casts. Even at my young age of 10 I knew how amazing it was. I’ll never forget his determined look as he took off in those casts and the laughter that emitted from all of us as my Dad let go of the seat and my hero, my little brother, took off on his own down the street, his legs a blur of green and red.

I have a hero. He can’t jump over buildings, but he can jump over anything that gets in his way. He doesn’t have laser-vision, but he will set his gaze and it won’t break. He doesn’t have a metal skeleton, but he does have a heart of gold.
I have a hero. He is my little brother.