Super Hero
Everyone has their own superhero. Someone to look up to for help or to protect you from those monsters under the bed. The person who was always kind and welcomed you with love into their arms when you needed it. The last time I’ve seen or spoken to my hero was when I was in the 4th grade. This person is my grandfather.
My grandfather was far from ordinary. He stands five foot eight, blind in his left eye, short and pretty muscular, with tattoos of dragons and tigers all over his back. Even at the age of 68, he is still quick and agile. He always wore something to cover his bad eye, saying that it was a hideous scar that should never be seen. His good eye was a dark hazel and has a full head of snow white hair that had that really old feathery type feel to it. He always dressed in formal attire with a old hat that he brought back from Korea, saying that it was his treasure and never let anyone touch it otherwise he would throw a fit. He was always treated other people with respect but never took any type of nonsense from anyone. Respected in the community with people bowing whenever we were at the supermarket or the park and a man who loves his family more than anyone else, every night as he arrived to his home, his face would be lit up with joy to the sight of his family. Always was he eager to give me advice and help me out with anything, even my homework though he was as clueless as me when it came down to it. Still he tried his best to understand and give me an answer to anything. His motto was “never give up without trying” He grew up poor in the country side of South Korea, and according to him was fueled with anger and jealousy at the fact that he was raised with nothing that he joined a gang at the age of 15. I guess that’s where all the tattoos came from.
The last time I spoke to him, he was telling me the story of his younger days. To me, it sounded too crazy and he explained to me how he got that eye. I’ll never forget the way it looked. It looked
My grandfather was far from ordinary. He stands five foot eight, blind in his left eye, short and pretty muscular, with tattoos of dragons and tigers all over his back. Even at the age of 68, he is still quick and agile. He always wore something to cover his bad eye, saying that it was a hideous scar that should never be seen. His good eye was a dark hazel and has a full head of snow white hair that had that really old feathery type feel to it. He always dressed in formal attire with a old hat that he brought back from Korea, saying that it was his treasure and never let anyone touch it otherwise he would throw a fit. He was always treated other people with respect but never took any type of nonsense from anyone. Respected in the community with people bowing whenever we were at the supermarket or the park and a man who loves his family more than anyone else, every night as he arrived to his home, his face would be lit up with joy to the sight of his family. Always was he eager to give me advice and help me out with anything, even my homework though he was as clueless as me when it came down to it. Still he tried his best to understand and give me an answer to anything. His motto was “never give up without trying” He grew up poor in the country side of South Korea, and according to him was fueled with anger and jealousy at the fact that he was raised with nothing that he joined a gang at the age of 15. I guess that’s where all the tattoos came from.
The last time I spoke to him, he was telling me the story of his younger days. To me, it sounded too crazy and he explained to me how he got that eye. I’ll never forget the way it looked. It looked