I forgot my brother, Henry on the last post, so I will use him as my subject for this week: a family member.
My brother, James Henry, is 15 years younger than me. Yes. 15 years. Trust me, I know… I was very “matter of fact” with my parents when I asked them what in the hell they were thinking… Since they were almost DONE… I was in 10th grade, and my sisters would be entering middle school in a couple of years. They had it whooped. WHOOPED!!
But, along came Henry on that August day in 1999. And although I was ready to not get attached to the little shit (I mean come on, people were gonna think he was my kid, not my brother), the minute I saw him, I knew it was over. Him and his little bald self. He was my sidekick, and I took him everywhere with me, not even caring if people thought he was mine or not.
Now, Henry towers over my sisters, my mom, me… Hell, everybody. He’s giant. He’s not that little baby boy anymore. And he is so smart. I’ve never seen anything like it.
I love my brother, although I don’t see or talk to him as often as I should. He’s growing into a pretty wonderful young man, and I couldn’t be prouder.