He's My Brother

I was having a hard time finding my peace. Lots of things were going on in my life at one time. There is one thing that remains constant in my life, reguardless of how much life throws me in my familial situation, I can always retreat to the memories of the bottom bunk of the beds that my brother and I shared many years ago.

It has been 10 years since I have slept in the same room with my brother. Since we listened to the arguments of our parental figures, and retreated to each other when things weren't going great.

It is funny, I am the oldest of the two, but I find security in my brother. When I see him, I revert to the little Divo, the one that wanted to be with him and we protect each other from the big bad world. I mean he's only five inches taller than me, so that does make the difference. But when I see him I run to him and hug him until he drags me off him. I love that boy.

Where does this all come from? Well, my maternal figure was really working my nerve this week. She usually finds ways to talk to me about my brothers short comings. No, my brother is not completely blameless, but I am usually able to mediate well. Well this week momma threw it on hard, and I wasn't really prepared for it all. Besides the fact that I was having other personal issues. I immediately called my brother or Baby Bother as I called him in my childhood. We talked for a moment, and although we were both in different places, we processed the antics of my family very quickly.

I disconnected with my brother, feeling new. He was the breath of fresh air that I needed. Even though we are miles away and 10 years away from the bunk beds at 550 Rosedale, we were still able to console each other and love each other through it all.

This post is dedicated to my Baby Bother... The Finest Man I Know, and the First Man I ever Loved.

I love you Bother.... You helped me restore my Peace.

Darrole