Mornings, he would arise early and put on his uniform—his badge, his gun—tools for a job many wouldn’t seek. But this was his community. Lived here all his life.
And he remembered someone once asked him—
What type of neighborhood do you want to leave behind for your children?
So the long hours, the hardened crooks, the feckless bureaucracy, the shady politicos notwithstanding, he did his job.
This never mattered. For at the end of the day, he went home. And there he found a wife. His wife. And children.
And he remembered the type of neighborhood he wanted to leave them. And in the morning, he once again would rise, to protect that very neighborhood.