I'm not ready either

Writing is something that takes the things closest to your heart and puts it on a screen for the world to see. It's not easy, but the best writing comes from that place. Hitting the publish button is usually the hardest part of this whole process.

So here goes, I'm not ready. I've been reduced to quiet tears, and loud sobs, either alone, or in front of my husband for the past few weeks. My brother is moving. Most people would celebrate this since brothers can be so annoying. Not me. I'm not ready. The screen is pretty blurry as I write this and I'm thankful to have sunglasses on to hide the tears.

If you know my brother, and have had the opportunity to really get to know him you know what kind of person he is. We took a five minute trip to the Starbucks around the corner in his car and I came home with three stories to share with my husband. This is what happens when you're with him, you return with hilarious and genuine life experiences. The kind of experiences that you couldn't even make up if you tried.

We pulled up to the main artery to the sound of a horn beeping incessantly at us. It was our other brothers, randomly passing at that same time, and rather than a wave we got a different 'greeting' from our brother that made us both howl.

We turned the corner and were stopped at a traffic light where a crew of men were working on the road. Three tough, tanned, orange suited men with frowns on their faces (probably because they were working on a Sunday) were placing the pylons on the road and out of their work truck the song I Swear was blaring out of the speakers.

On the way home a large truck was stopped in the middle of the road. We pulled up behind him and he proceeded to pull into the middle of the crescent driving 6 km/hr. He would speed up to 12 then hit his brakes and go back down to 6. We conjectured that he was lost, then maybe, he was looking at the houses that had work being done to them, then I suggested that he thought my brother was a punk kid and he was 'gonna teach that boy a lesson'. People tend to speed down our very residential road, I'm not sure what possesses them to do this, but if this truck driver lives anywhere near us he would be privy to this also. My brother pulled over in front of my house, and the truck zoomed off. The punk kid theory was the correct one. My brother looked at me, revved the engine and flatly said 'get out', feigning that he was going to chase that truck down and teach him a lesson. We laughed pretty hard about that, then he asked, 'why do I look so young to people?'

When you're with my brother you put on a pair of glasses that helps you see the world in such a light that makes sad things borderline depressing, funny things hilarious, and the littlest moments are made the moments that you live for. He is like an additive to life that enhances what is already there. And it doesn't matter who he is with, he will bring that out in you. His heart is always beating in time with whomever he is with.

He is off to school to become something that will only strengthen his natural gifts. He will be amazing, and I know that we will spend many hours on the phone, but I'm not quite ready to be separated from him by two provinces. I don't think that I ever will be ready.

That's all.


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