Behold, My Brother

My brother is a romping eighteen year-old who's shirt magically disappears when he enters the house, no matter the season, and who gets criminally upset when his advice, well-informed or naive, goes without acknowledgement. He is the same person who threw temper tantrums and would try to punch, kick, scream, and cry his way through a problem like divorce. He is the same person who leapt up from sleep to carry me to my bed when I was too injured to even crawl. He is someone I am proud of, mindful of, free with, someone to admonish, to tease. We share our deepest wounds, the sweat on our brows, the exhale of satisfaction that comes from laughing heartily. In many ways, he will always be an old, dear friend, but, he is my brother, much more than any friend, and certainly no less.