My husband is my hero. At the very start of our relationship he demonstrated that he was the hero type. He proved it to me by crossing a dessert, slaying a dragon and bringing back many pots of gold. No, I am not in jest. It really happened. (Ask me about it sometime! Wink, wink!) It was then that he set a precedent for what he was going to do for the rest of our lives - rescue me...
"I'm sorry, we cannot do that." said the cold, distant voice on the other end of the phone.
I had literally been on hold with my insurance company for 45 minutes. By time they finally got to me I was not happy to say the least. This was the 3rd time I had this particular issue with my account. I was reassured that the problem was fixed each time I hung up...now I was calling again. Same problem. Same little frustrated me. No one even sounded like they knew what they were talking about. I was at my breaking point.
"I'll call you back later." I said and that was that. All I could think to do was call my husband for advice. I needed rescuing. Badly.
"Just send me the number and I'll see what I can do." He said.
And that was all it took. 30 minutes later he had solved the issue. I wouldn't have to deal with that place anymore. My hero had done it again. Sure, dealing with snarky people on the phone may not seem like much...but I noticed it. I appreciate the little hero moments. Sure, he has rescued me many times that are worthy of dragon-slaying lore, but I prefer to sing the unsung tales of bravery. He's my hero when he prays for me, when he lets me cry on his shoulder, when he shows off my work to his friends, when he takes care of the bills, when he says "don't worry about cooking super", when he loves me even when I don't deserve it, when he goes to work to provide for us everyday and so much more.
It's the little, everyday things that matter the most anyway. Yep, he's my hero.