Do you have brothers or sisters or both?
I’ve got a bunch: I love them all.
We are all cookies from the same batch: it’s just the way it is.
One of my brothers died about the same age as I am now. Two days before my next birthday in January 2010 I will be the same age as him when he died.
This bothers me for some reason. It taunts me. It’s in the back of my mind lately. It’s a regret. It’s there.
Was he my favourite brother? No.
Were we close? No.
Did we have anything in common? Probably a bit of the same humor and most of the genetic material, but not too much else.
Did I really like him? No.
… but I still loved him. ……….. love him.
Looking at this photo I realize that he’s still somewhere in my life … if only represented by a stupid birthday card from 10 years ago on my kitchen wall.
The little boy in the picture holding a banana is captioned with:
“He had only one idea, and that was wrong.”
I wish he were still alive and finally happy, but some wishes are bygones … and I’ll let bygones be bygones.
I miss not really liking him.
note: I had a different post to put on tonight, but when I saw this picture, taken by Mr. Pettit a few weeks ago, I knew the other one could wait.
double note: a “bunch” is 6 siblings as defined by me.
triple note: when I look in the mirror I see more of him than all the rest of the rest for some reason. I’m sure my other brothers and sisters think I look most like my mother or my father. I’m not sure … I’ll have to ask them about this.
notes to myself #80
The older you get the more you actually like your brothers and sisters: they are all cool. … I don’t know how that happens either!