My little brother showed up at the Oceanside parade in a tiny police uniform, saluting like a pro. Everyone laughed, clapped, and asked if he wanted to be a cop like me. He nodded, but later in the car, I noticed something different—a seriousness in his eyes that didn’t feel like ordinary childhood play.
Over the next weeks, he asked endless questions about my job, even patrolling our yard with a toy gun, insisting he wanted to be “strong” and “protect people.” It worried me—he was only six, and I didn’t want him chasing an idealized version of my life. On a colleague’s advice, I signed him up for martial arts to give him structure without the danger.
Months later, he calmly stopped a school fight, using his training instead of force. In that moment, I realized he didn’t need a badge to protect others—he’d found his own way to be strong. And sometimes, the path to your dream isn’t the one you expected, but the heart behind it matters most.
