Understanding the formatting of the page requires a PhD in something or other, which lack. Vision, hearing, touch and smell took me most of a lifetime. Losing hours here are not on my personal menu, so I’m often absent.  Not a biggie on the world’s megaphone, I find my ego still intact, or a reasonable proximity thereof and so I thought I’d get to this before the final comb-through of the memoir that seems to be permanently imbedded in my computer. One hundred pages of editing and fleshing and I can hit send and wait in line for an editor to get to it. Well. She’s worth the wait. How about early summer? How about I’m not getting any younger?

The attached photo might tell the tale. Memoir puts you right back into your past, at such a level that you wonder why the memories you’re recording  are not foremost in your mind. Well. That might be because those are firmly anchored in your heart.

When we were in the orphanage, my brother and I were inseparable. When we finally lived in a small town in a large house with Mama and her new husband and baby, we didn’t draw breath without each other. That didn’t go on forever, but for the first year or so, it was intense. See me smothering him?  His interests soon disallowed much of that. Being on my own felt weird, but that soon corrected. A pair of roller skates solved a lot of the need to be by myself. Bobby was a poor skater so for him it wasn’t much fun. Likewise, armed with a fishing pole, he left me in the dust. A little boy with no patience became some other, standing or sitting in utter silence waiting for a fish. He evaded me often because silence for no purpose I could see was beyond me. He was, and still is, a master fisherman.

As we age, time and distance still allow the meshing of our minds, our hearts beat in unison, we jump into each other’s head without resistance. Our lives converge in every way but physically, as if we are disembodied. He lives ten hours away and it matters little. We stay in touch weekly unless he’s away fishing the ocean or golfing beyond his geographical boundaries.

There was never a time I didn’t appreciate my brother. Even thinking about life without him upsets me. He is outrageous enough to keep me laughing. What else could a brother be for?

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3 thoughts on “Just a little hug

  1. you just reminded me of my relationship with my 2 brothers….they watched over me from the time my mother died (4 years old)…till they went home to our heavenly father to join my parents….it has been years…but I so wish they were still here with me…the memories are all fond….the teasing, the fun, playing outside till dark… the control from over 3,000 miles away while they were in the service….I knew my youngest brother who hovered more, wouldn’t like it if I stepped out of line…so when I was 13 years old, I never did anything I thought that he wouldn’t approve….my oldest brother married when I was 16, his wife then became my big sister…what a lucky kid I was.

    Like

  2. Family is such a blessing. Some memories are painful and some so funny you cry with laughter, and no one else understands. I love the way you
    write!

    Like

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