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This is a thank you to my hero, Jack.



    I wasn’t reckless with my life. Just as everyone else, I had been given it to carry with me since birth. But I wasn’t like those that wore it as jewelry, nor like those that tucked it into their wallets. It never felt right to keep it in my shoes and I was never showy enough to throw it around for display. Instead, I was one of those that kept it tucked in her pocket.

    Like all of them it was delicate, easily getting scratched and scuffed. But quickly you learn that lives are hearty and can take these damages easily and fix them without a second thought. Even with particularly big dents, the life will work around it and make something extraordinary.

    When I was little, I didn’t think much of my life. I thought it was beautiful, as everyone probably does when they are small. I thought it shined amazingly, that it glimmered, and that it, like me, was very tiny. And, since it was a life, it was unlike any other life. It was purely mine.

    But my life took many a beating from the moment it was created. It glowed just a little too differently, and I was out casted quite a bit. I was alone quite a bit. Several times it was ripped from my hand to be gawked at, or thrown to the ground. Several more times I crushed it under my heel, angered that it brought such damage to itself.

    As I got older, I began to see things from their point of view. The once glittering, joyful ball was twisted and ugly. It was worthless and weak, unable to take what the others constantly gave it. This piece of garbage began to grow heavier and heavier, turning into a lead lump in my pocket, constantly reminding me it was there. I would find myself staring at it, wondering why it glowed so strangely, why it even existed. Why it had no worth.

    I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. It was too ugly…too unlovable. Who could ever see worth in something that resembled a broken doll’s innards? Why was I continuing to hold onto it?

    One day, as the leaden weight in my pocket grew unbearable, there was a sudden, brilliant surge of never-ending energy as a man in green came into view. Immediately, I knew he was going to do great things. His life was blinding it was so bright. His demeanor was incredibly enthusiastic and joyful. He was a powerhouse of positivity.

    His life was carefully worn on his heart, and open to the world. Never had I seen someone so genuinely kind or gentle. His voice was overbearing and thunderous, to the point that all the negativity in my mind was flushed out my ringing ears. I felt…lighter. His name, I learned, was Jack.

    I savored the surge of positivity that was in Jack’s presence. It was like a warm hug, fueled with relentless energy and a drive that spurned from a reservoir of compassion and care. I knew that he would never, ever harm me. I felt…safe almost.

    Seeing such a beautiful life shining on him, I pulled mine out of my pocket, dulled to ash and nothing more than a shell. Even so, it was so unbearably heavy, so cold and pointless. I didn’t want this horrible thing, this lump of garbage. I wanted to die. I wanted it all to stop.

    I gripped it tight before looking up at Jack. His smile warmed me through to my core. I looked at it, then back up at him as I held it out to him.

    He looked at it for a moment, regarding it in all its worthless glory. I felt its weight roll to my fingertips as he took it from me, so gently I almost cried. He inspected every crack, every dent, placing it in his palm with utmost care.

    “Why don’t you want this?” he asked quizzically.

     “It’s trash,” I shrugged, “it’s rancid trash. I don’t want it but if I got rid of it, I feel like it’d hurt you, even though we don’t know each other. So I’m giving it to you. It’s yours to do with what you please.”

    Jack could have done many things, but he did the one thing I didn’t expect. He brought it to his chest, cradling it like a newborn babe. His glow enveloped the air around us, encircling me in an iron hug.

    “But it’s gorgeous, how can you think that? Look at how it shines,” even with such a heavy gift, he was light as air.

    “It’s ugly. It’s dull. It’s a nasty fuck up that shouldn’t have happened,” I hissed at it, but Jack’s positivity took all the bite from my words.

    “Is not!” he challenged back with childish banter, “It’s so beautiful! Look, at that glow! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

    “It’s strange and unwanted.”

    “It’s unique and valuable,” Jack gently turned a corner of it over. “There’s so much color here, so much potential. It’s just a little scuffed is all.”

    “I don’t trust myself with it. I’m too rough for something so delicate,” I looked at him, this stranger who until ten minutes ago never knew I existed. Never even knew I was an idea. But here he stood, so kind and caring, without a drop of realization all he was doing for me.

    “You’ll want it back,” he sounded so certain.

    “No I won’t,” I crinkled my nose. “It’s weak.”

    “It’s stronger than you know,” Jack winked before gently tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll protect it with my life.”

    “No,” I cut him off, suddenly afraid. “Please, don’t hurt yourself to protect it. It’s not worth that!”

    “Bullshit,” he crossed his arms, his energy building, as if that were even possible. “I won’t allow anything to hurt it further. That’s why you gave it to me right?”

    I suddenly realized the mistake I made, “Give it back. I want it back.”

    “No way,” Jack stopped me, holding me away from his pocket where the trash rested. “You gave me something that is far more valuable than you realize. One day, you will, but for now, I will take care of it. I’ll polish it, nurse it, name it and put it on a little pillow. I’ll whisper encouragement to it every day. But I won’t allow you to hurt it, because that will make me sad to know that you took your own life. You wouldn’t want to break my little Jack heart, would you?”

    “No, never,” my words were an oath.

    “Then let me carry this weight for you for a little while. It’s in safe hands.”

    “It’ll crush you…”

    “Oh please, this thing is light as an Irish feather. Which is as light as a normal feather but it’s Irish. And if anybody calls it names, I’ll bite their nose.” He snarled playfully.

    I knew his words were true, but the urge to grab it and slam it one final time to the ground was still twitching in my fingertips. As if Jack could see it, he hugged me. It was strong and secure, and I knew I was safe from everything.

    That was four years ago, but to this day Jack has still held true. He told me every day how the dents were filling in. How it was getting brighter. He showed it to me once, perched on a small pillow on his shelf next to a plush Sam. It looked almost…pretty.

    I knew I had made a good decision in relying on Jack, if not as a friend, then as a guardian. A hero.

    All I’ve ever wanted to say was thank you, Jack. Thank you for being the hero I needed. Thank you for taking the weight for me when it was too much. Thank you for encouraging me when no one else would, for simply asking how my day was. Because of you, I have hope. And one day, I hope to meet you to give you a massive, energy fueled hug.