Tell us about your hero.
The first “person” who comes to mind is this guy: 
because he’s the earliest memory I have of someone – besides my folks, of course – whom I idolized. It probably had a lot to do with my being a youngest sibling and therefore feeling like I had walked a mile or two in his shoes, and wishing that I had one or two of his super mouse physical and mental skills of outwitting, escaping and surviving.
Despite my evolutionary disadvantage, I survived into adulthood and my idea of “hero” changed accordingly. Now, my heroes are all the usual suspects. No need to name names. But somehow I still come back to this little guy:
Except, now, I’m not looking up to him, and I’m not thinking back on me looking up to him either. I’m thinking of the very fact that my young self had access to such luxuries as this and to all the other comforts of life that that implies. That thought, in turn, leads me to think on the countless young girls who, at the same time as I was watching my shows, were growing up fighting for space not only with the real thing:
but also fighting for their lives against so many imaginable and unimaginable odds:
Girls who are now women, who I couldn’t name even if I tried but who will always be my heroes, in whom I stand in such awe that I am still working up the courage to read their stories:
Rebecca Fisseha, Writer. 