365 Days (Part 1) | ✓

79. Hero

79. Hero: Write a tribute to someone you regard as a hero.

My dad isn't famous. He isn't a rockstar or a philosopher. He is more likely to watch football on Sundays than play it. My dad isn't extraordinarily remarkable to anyone but me.

See, my dad is a nice guy. That sounds too simple, I know. "Oh, he's just a nice guy..." But it's the truth and it's what makes him special. Nice guys are hard to find. Nice guys are the ones who make life beautiful. Nice guys are the best fathers.

I have the best father.

My dad doesn't give me everything I want. He makes me work for it. My dad doesn't let me get away with everything. He makes me own up to my mistakes. My dad would rather take the effort to make me a better person than let me do whatever and save himself the trouble.

Dad hasn't ever saved the world. No, he does stuff like unclog the drain and mow the lawn and clean the cat litter. Little things. Menial things. Things no one thinks is cool, but he does it on a regular basis because it's his job. He doesn't complain. Dad never does.

He isn't very funny either, but that doesn't mean he doesn't laugh. He does.

My dad isn't incredibly thoughtful and insightful. He doesn't write poetry. He barely reads. But he is always willing to listen when I tell him about whichever book I'm reading at the time.

Dad doesn't have a temper, either. If he's mad, it's for a good reason, and that's reassuring.

He likes stuff like cars and sports. Dad can name every make and model of every car from the year he was born and onward. He's a tough guy. When people want something moved, they ask him. He doesn't sweat the small stuff.

Dad is the comforter and the peacemaker.

Yet I also know that my dad has a huge heart. I know, because I know him, that when I get married and we have our father-daughter dance, he will cry, because he loves me. Sometimes, when we go to church, and they will be singing praise to God, there will be tears falling silently from his cheeks. Because that is my dad.

If you were to meet my dad, you would call him average. He wasn't handsome or hilarious or brilliant. He isn't the kind of guy you're going to use as inspiration for a romance novel. He's "just a nice guy," after all.

But he is the kind of dad that his children will write tributes to. He is the kind of dad that's a hero in their eyes -- not for the big things, but for the little things, and the end, it's those that matter most.