Inspiration hits at the most odd times...

» GHolbrook - Had to post here, seemed appropriate.

Bob, wrote this after seeing "Ladder 49". Just felt right. Hope you don't mind my posting it here.

I am not a hero

I never asked to be a hero. In fact, I don’t want to be. I never want to receive a medal. I never want to be the one that people talk about for years to come. I didn’t plan to burn my place in history with an action considered heroic. I have no desire to be in the spotlight. I have no need to be repeatedly patted on the back and celebrated for something I did. I feel no urge to have people call me at home to thank me for doing what others can not or will not do. Too late.

I am a fireman.

I never wanted to give up my personal time on a moment’s notice. I never felt the urge to live a life full of worry. I have yet to think “this cant go on, it’s too cumbersome for my lifestyle”. I’ve never felt like a hero. I never thought a call to action would be something exhilarating, yet terrifying. I can’t imagine letting this go on for another day. I couldn’t possibly make it stop tomorrow. In the past, I never imagined I would feel this way today. In the future, I hope I always feel as I do today. I never thought all the time I spend alone at night would be for a good thing.

I am a fireman’s wife.

I’ve never thought about all the time away from home as unnecessary. I don’t complain when things run long and I have to stay. I embrace people who used to be strangers as brothers. I don’t see being soaking wet and covered with filth as a bad thing. I don’t feel like a pillar in the community. I have never given up without trying. One hundred percent is the bare minimum. I have yet to feel like I have done something extraordinary. Sweat is normal. If I work until I pass out, I feel bad for not trying harder. I do not envy those who think what I do is special. They could do it, too.

I am a fireman.

I sit up at night trying to make him pull into the drive by sheer will. I spend countless hours trying to occupy idle hands. They don’t shake that way. I watch my children worry often. I worry often. I smile through my frown to my friends and family. I am not strong. I am strong-willed. I don’t feel the need to correct him when he says he isn’t a hero. I correct him when he says I am a hero. What I do is not heroic. I sit at home. I rub his back. I listen to him moan in his sleep when the night’s been too hard. I support him and his brothers. I am not a hero.

I am a fireman’s wife.

When the bell rings and he runs into the night, I know he’s doing some good. It’s ok if he can’t kiss me good night. He will hug me when he gets home. He tells me he isn’t special. He says he doesn’t do anything that someone else couldn’t do if they wanted to. I never feel bad when he can’t be home. I worry. When he leaves, I try to wait up till he gets back. I usually fall asleep. I am proud of him and what he does. I stand in awe when he puts on his gear. He is a hero. I am not a hero.

I am a firefighter’s child.

-- posted by GHolbrook

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