Narrative Essay About My Dad

“Wow, so your dad is like, a hero isn’t he? That’s so cool!” I paused for a moment. My dad was a hero? “Yeah, I guess so”, I responded. In those few phrases, my perception of my father was completely changed forever. He didn’t stop being my dad at that point, he never will. But in that moment, he suddenly became almost larger than life. My childhood was rather unexciting, and dare I say, normal. My parents were married, I was an only child, we had a pet cat and went to church on Sundays. During the weekdays I went to school, went to dance classes after and at night I came home to finish up my homework and eat dinner. My mother worked full time as did my father so my grandparents helped out frequently with my afterschool care and transportation. I was kept fed and happy, free to go about my life as a 3rd grader and all the elementary school dramas that came with it. My life didn’t seem that different from anyone else’s, and my parents did a good job of keeping it that way.

On a given week, he would leave to work early on a Sunday morning, go to work and not come home until Tuesday. Then he’d leave to work again on Saturday and come home Monday. I sometimes got to see him during his shifts if my mother and I went by the station he worked out of. Most of the time I didn’t. There were also days when sometimes instead of coming home, my dad called in the morning to tell us that he was having to stay an extra day to fill in for someone. Mornings like those made me a little sad, but my feelings quickly gave way to other