“Who is your hero?” a seemingly simple inquiry aimed to inspire creative and meaningful answers, is a question I’ve been asked by nearly every one of my teachers since Kindergarten. By asking this question, teachers seek to encourage their students to truly analyze their lives and discover who they aspire to be like. And, if I’m not mistaken, they receive a laundry-list of unexpected heros. Young children tend to respond to the question by naming a well-known superhero or their favorite cartoon character, while middle-schoolers may state the teenage heart-throb of that week. Oddly, however, those typical childhood heros, never served as my hero. Throughout the years, my answer was always simple: My Mom.

In my earlier years, choosing my mom as my hero appeared to be the “right” thing to do. She did everything for me; she picked me up from school, bought me toys, and most importantly loved me. Of course she had to be my hero! I would then write a simple paragraph in the infamous “childhood handwriting” and usually include an extremely colorful picture of my mom and me holding hands. After successfully finishing my masterpiece, I would exuberantly run out from school and proudly hand the work of art to my mom. A stream of hugs, kisses, thank yous, and I love it followed.

Year after year, I matured, but the question remained the same. “Who was my hero?” I tried many times, unsuccessfully, to think of other possible people who could serve as such an influential character in my life. I went through a list of the popular celebrities, famous authors, influential leaders, and other members of my family, but for the obvious reasons, I was always drawn back to my mom. I was soon asked to write longer assignments about why a specific person was my hero. I was told to analyze the person’s character, actions, and triumphs. The usual, “she picked my up from school, bought me toys, and most importantly loved me,” response could no longer suffice. Now, my response extended to include that she was an incredibly kind person who loves to help others. I then went into detail about her being a nurse for fifteen years and how she’d do anything my brother and me. This long assignment, after receiving a generous grade from the teacher, was then proudly displayed on the refrigerator among report cards, homemade-art work, and family photographs.

Now as a Junior in high school, I reflected on this question again. “Who is my hero?” I immediately recalled the numerous papers I had written and the endless amount hand-drawn pictures that I had created about my hero as a child. As a maturing seventeen year old, however, I wondered again if there was anyone else I’ve ever met that I could truly consider my hero. Now immediately I thought of individuals who survived acts of terror, the brave men and women protecting our country everyday, and the terminally ill who, despite their aliments, try to inspire others by not giving up hope. Although I truly consider all of these amazing human beings heros, my hero, the person who has never stopped inspiring me, has wiped ever tear, cleaned every cut, tucked me into bed every night, as you can guess, is still my mom.

My mom is one of the most incredible people I have ever met, and I believe her life’s journey made her the generous, compassionate person she is today. To be honest, her childhood was far from pleasant. Between sharing not only a room with three sisters, but one bed, a small pull-out sofa to be exact, constantly moving and having to start new schools, she struggled to live like a normal child. Her parents were far from loving and encouraging, paying little attention to her academic success. By the time she was a young teenager, my mom was sent to live with her eldest brother. She was forced to transfer in the middle of high school, during the final months of the school year. Being the “new kid” is extremely hard no matter what age you are. But, being the new kid so late in the school year at a high school with thousands of kids was even harder. Somehow, however, my mother’s true testament of bravery shone through, and she was able to survive those last few months. She went on to finish high school with a group of friends, an after-school job, and a boyfriend that she would end up marrying. She attended college and successfully graduated with a degree in nursing. For the next fifteen years she practiced her craft in numerous hospitals, before she finally settled down and had two children, my brother and me.

Thinking back now, I cannot remember a time in which my mom was not by my side. Children need stability in their lives she often says, and my mom took every opportunity she could to ensure my safety and happiness. She was on time for every school dismissal, chaperoned every school trip, sat through every single dance recital, helped me with all of my homework assignments, and provided a house full of laughter. She has always put my brother and me before anything else, especially herself. To this day, she refrains from buying herself designer clothing and expensive handbags, but instead uses that money to buy clothing or school supplies for my brother and me.

I could go on and list every single thing she has ever done for me to prove how dedicated she is as a mother and because of this, how well deserving she is of the title “hero.” However, above all else, it is her selfless actions towards others that truly makes me aspire to be like her. It is easy to show love and compassion toward your family, but in my opinion, those who are able to treat others with the upmost respect, affection, and generosity are the most commendable. Every time there is a school event, you can count on my mom to bake dozens of her famous “square” cupcakes. Every time it snows you can be sure that every elderly neighbor will have a cleared walkway. Every time someone needs a ride to school, to their house, or to any various location within the island, you can count on my mother to give them a ride. I realize today how fortunate I am to have a mother like her. Her extremely brave character, her sense of hope, her generous nature, and her goal to provide my brother and I with the life she never had truly makes my mom worthy of the title “hero.” I have often been told that I am just like her, and I happily respond: if I’m anything like her at all, I am very, very blessed.