I remember the days in elementary school when we were able to tell the class about what our parents did for a job. Some people’s parents' were business men, others were mechanics or even lawyers-- but when it was my turn, well, I knew that my Dad had the best job. I was always so proud to tell everyone that my dad was a firefighter-- and I still am. Every chance I can, I make sure people know how hardworking my dad is.
My dad is not only my hero, but he is a hero to a countless number of other people as well. Every day, firefighters put their lives in danger for complete strangers--an act so selfless, but hard to come by in just any ordinary person.
My childhood was far different from the other kids I went to school with. While both of their parents were home for dinner after working 9 to 5, sometimes it was just my mom, brother and I who sat around the kitchen table to eat together. I thought it was totally normal to go to bed at night and only have one of my parents be home. I didn't necessarily realize until I got older that my dad's schedule of working for a few days straight wasn't actually normal. Getting used to this schedule became a normality for us though, and truth be told--I kind of liked it. Don't get me wrong, there were days where I wished my whole family was home but I had gotten so used to this schedule that when my dad was gone for a week straight or when he was home for a week straight-- well it was weird. My favorite thing to wake up to in the morning was my dad walking through the door with a box of munchkins for my brother and I. Yup--that's right. When we were just waking up, my dad was finally coming home after a long night of fighting fires.
Some of my favorite days were visiting my dad at the fire station. Being able to sit in the fire trucks and play with the sirens was something that not every kid got to do. Even to this day, a part of me still likes visiting the station. Seeing where my dad lives may be a weird concept to some, but to me, it's actually pretty cool. I mean how many people can say that their dad lives at their job? Visiting the fire station had changed a lot as I have gotten older. When I was younger, I paid no attention to the station itself, but rather, I was more interested in who was going to give me money to buy something from the vending machine. Now, I see the mismatched reclining chairs around the TV and the single mattress bed my dad sleeps on. All of his belongings fit into one locker-- nothing more. The building is falling apart and smells of smoke, and yet--t's still another home.
Although my dad wasn't always home throughout the week, or holidays were celebrated early because he had to work on Christmas Day, I have realized how important and special my dad's job is---and I couldn't be more proud. I have always tried to imagine what it was like to be behind the mask, running into a fire, while others run out, but I can't. Every day, my dad leaves home knowing that it could be the last time he walks through the door. Every day, a firefighter risks their life for a complete stranger. If that stranger is you, thank them. Any ordinary person may not understand it, but being a firefighter's daughter, I have realized that it takes a special person to do the job they do. The amount of mental stress and physical stress they put on their body and their mind is capable by only a select few.
To those who risk their lives each and every day, thank you. Thank you for all that you do and for keeping us safe.
Needless to say, I am so proud of my dad and the sacrifices that he and many other firefighters make daily. After all, being a firefighter's daughter is pretty awesome.
