If you judge others based on appearance and tattoos, you may clearly bypass a beautiful being.
Tough, rugged, by virtue of his turbulent upbringing. I think his tattoos serve like my scars do, a place where he has been, that has helped mold or shape him into who he is today, and perhaps places that he never wants to return. Evidence of an imperfect life lived out perfectly. Because the harshness that he experienced has been redirected, chiseled into strength.
A husband, a father first, above all. Selflessly he gave up his beloved motorcycle for the purpose of spending more time with his family, and to assist in his goal to always be there for them. A family man, a man who loves his beautiful, intelligent wife without boundaries. A man who took this beautiful, intelligent, complicated young soul as his son. He IS his father, his dad.
He helps his neighbors, refusing monetary gift. The other day I heard something out my window, there he was on a dangerous ladder, up 15′ or more in the air on its top wrung, rescuing the neighbors cat who had perched himself up a tree. The same man who the day before mowed my lawn. He’s never asked why I don’t or cannot do it. I will tell you. I have a push mower. And if I use it, the vibration causes my hands to go numb, and it remains for several days, leaving me unable to do much.
He and his family have shoveled my walks in the winter, gifted me with a plate of whatever they were barbecuing, holiday treats that bring a smile to my face and make my taste buds dance.
He goes off to work each day to a job that most men wouldn’t even consider. And comes home each day to their home snuggled in the home behind me, perched next to the woods, and so nicely kept. Unless there is a storm, and his expertise is needed elsewhere. Then? There is no telling how many days he will be gone. He returns to his family which also includes two cats, one, a sphinx, who suffered the same fate as he, blind in one eye. And yet, he still does this potentially dangerous job, and obviously WELL.
I cannot tell you the numerous times he has helped me with his neighborly friendliness. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve looked out my kitchen window and smiled at the making of this family. I once would look out in guarding protection of a single mother with her young child. Now? Now I look out and see a family who enjoys their life together. Who spends their off time together doing quality things. Now? I feel protected!
Heroes come in many forms. And while I know he would never want, nor consider himself a hero, I am grateful for his friendship. He is proof to me that one can change their lives, with intense hard work, and the constant flow of choices that he makes, for the betterment of himself and family.
At times I’ve seen him followed by a dark cloud that he can’t seem to shake. It’s at those times when I wish he would see himself as those who love him do. An incredible, perfectly imperfect being that makes this world a better place!
The next time you judge someone on their looks, their tattoos, I suggest you take a second look, a deeper look. You just may be walking away from one hell of soul that would bring light to your dark days. Who helps without judging, and for me? Makes me feel that I am okay, perfectly imperfect with all my “shit”, and deserving of others help and friendship.
I dare ya!