Holding Out for a Hero Read Free

from the sidewalk deliver that coffee to my desk. Maybe I could’ve figured out why he looked familiar beyond the sexy hair. Struck up a conversation. Given him my number.
    Oh, yeah—and found out his name.
    I finished my PB & J and decided the next time a man was nice to me I’d be nice right back. To add emphasis, I got up to dunk my sandwich wrapper in the trash barrel. Kind of a throw out the old, bring in the new improved Kelsie. One step away, my heel wedged in a crack. Having already leaned forward to toss my garbage, I walked right out of my shoe and stepped in the remains of a half-eaten hot dog next to the can.
    Soggy bun and ketchup squished up between my toes.
    Eww . Fighting my gag reflex, I retrieved the shoe I’d just purchased during yesterday’s lunch and sat on the closest bench to rummage through my bag. Where’s a darn tissue when I needed it? Then I remembered I’d used them earlier to wipe Chai tea off my things. Again, I was not surprised; it just went with my day.
    Two designer-dressed women pushing luxury strollers passed by, and one eyed my foot with an expression of horrified disgust. From a distance, I bet the ketchup could’ve passed for blood. Now, do you think either one of them, or anyone else for that matter, would offer assistance with their precious bottled water?
    That’s okay, I didn’t expect it, either.
    A giggling child caught my attention, running as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him away from a woman who’d given chase. Mother or nanny? The child’s glee brought a smile to my face, until I realized he bee-lined for the busy street.
    My heart lodged in my throat. I jumped to my feet, horrified to realize the woman would never catch him in time.
    With barely a second to spare, a young man who’d jogged past me a moment ago dropped his water bottle and snatched the boy out of danger. The frantic woman grasped the child to her chest and collapsed to her knees. Mother . My own heart pounded so loud I barely heard her tearfully thank the man who’d saved her son.
    I don’t feel bad about my ketchup toes. If he’d stopped to offer his water to wash my foot, that precious little boy might have been hit by a car. Carrying my unread book and damaged shoe, I teeter-tottered back to work, feeling like a jerk and beginning to wonder if I didn’t break a toe kicking the copier this morning. None of it seemed important after what I witnessed, but it still hurt.
    The afternoon crawled by and I found myself contemplating the hero thing again. Earlier I was being goofy about it, but now I think I finally figured out the true trouble with heroes. Ask a hundred people their definition of a hero, and I believe you’d get a majority of similar answers. Our society is so enamored with Superheroes, and great BIG gestures that are easily recognizable and indisputably heroic, that the little everyday, wonderful things people do for others often times go unnoticed.
    Superheroes are great, but they’re not real.
    The man who saved that child is a hero, no doubt about that. He might even be super. But you know, so is Nalinda’s grandmother—to Nalinda. And Mr. Apology’s brother—to his wife. (At least, he better be.) And Mr. Apology himself, for trying to make things right despite my ungrateful attitude. Oh, to turn back time.
    On my walk home, I looked around and was amazed at the whole new world before me. I searched for anything good and found signs at every turn. Friends hugging when they said hello, a woman assisting an elderly man onto the bus, couples holding hands, a little girl gazing at her father with hero-worship in her eyes.
    I now realized we must look carefully every day, or we might end up missing what’s right in front of us.
    Because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, I stepped on an uneven section of sidewalk, twisted my ankle, and broke the heel of my unscuffed shoe. You know what? I didn’t even care. Laughing quietly to myself, I took