I was secretly and only slightly silently pleased to hear the news that my brother, Patrick, would not be flying to Afghanistan.
"At least you're not required to go." I tell him. Could be worse, Patrick, you could be made of chicken wings, marshmallow fluff and baby teeth, but you're not. You are made of Old Black Beard bravery, Spider-Man strength and you have a heart that should be molded into a cutter, like a Christmas cookie cutter, for God to mold the hearts of all big brothers. I'm sorry I never call,
but I'll see you on December 25th.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
A Wise Friend
A wise friend is akin to a book of old wisdom. A book of bone and soul and skin. A book that breathes and speaks and eats. A book with a so...
-
I want you to be free someone who is heard and seen a child who is free. I want you to feel to move through every emotion witnessing your...
-
I am the introvert hostess hiding inside her bathroom. G uests arrive to my writings on the wall, to platters of awkward tension and to ...
-
In my denim skirt, floral blouse and old olive-green flats, I sit beside Scott in a small glass bank office. We are applying for our first...
No comments:
Post a Comment