Monday, February 27, 2012


My brother called today, I call him Pickle.  When I was a child after my sister died I wanted a baby brother in the worst way and I loved dill pickles, you put the two together and I thought my world would be pperfect.  I knew Dill-pickle was the name for him.  Unfortunately my parents did not agree so they found a name I'm sure he appreciates more, but for me, my kid brother, has always been Pickle. 

Today he called.  My table was messy, there were dishes in the sink, toys on the floor.  It was the first quietness I had had in two days.  I stopped everything so I could talk.  He's worth it.  I needed it.  It was good, oh so good.

I have another brother who also called this week.  I call him Eph.  His story isn't nearly as interesting as Pickle's is, really, I'm lazy and shortened his name.  He's loved just the same though.  Him and I we kind of have a secret language going and we have always been the closest by far.  When he called I forgot that life sometimes needs to be put on hold so I can chat of nothings with him.  I was busy; I missed his call.  A call I should have answered.  On that day he had fought to save a man's life and failed.  Eph did everything he could but the man had a blood clot that went to the heart.  It was his time.  This is not the first person my brother has held as they've breathed that last breath.  It's hard to have that much responsibility.  I was too busy with life to stop and listen, to bear it with him.

A lesson I have learned many times and seem all too quickly to forget:  Life is never too busy to take time for people because without people life doesn't really exists.

The second is like it, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
~ Matthew 22:39

1765.  Brothers
1766.  Phones to stay in touch with.
1767.  Relationships that pick up where they've left off.

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