Sacrifice

I see them both, on the street, every day. The petit son, with flowing hair in the shape of a sphere, and the dad who mimmicks his looks, but carries with him a pair of crutches. I see them everyday, and I think about them every day.

The boy's probably around the age of six ripe years. They walk down the boulevard, whilst in the midst of things, the father's struggling and in pain as he walks. Despite that, walking his son to school isn't a chore, it's his duty and what he loves he must protect.

I have an honest question. Does this little boy know that his dad's a hero? I see them everyday, and from what I see I know he's one.

I've seen these people for two years.

In twelve ripe years, that deserving boy will know and understand what I know about his father.