My hands still smell like salt.
Last night I was in Maryland having a crab-eating contest with a new colleague of mine. Between the two of us, we tossed back several salted boiled crabs between pints of Sam Adams. Not a bad way to build rapport with a woman I'll be working with for the next year or so.
Maryland crabs aren't quite as good as Alaskan King Crab, but they'll do in a pinch.
All this travelling around does get to me, but I did get a chance to finish The Poisonwood Bible, a truly spectacular book. Read it if you get a chance.
I called my sister in tonight. We exchanged pleasantries and danced around the one thing that was on both our minds. She told me she saw Devo live and about her upcoming laser surgery. I talked about my new roommate and the idea of going abroad again. We both bitched about our shitty president...
... then there was the long silence.
"Do you remember today?" I asked.
"Yeah." She replied.
On this day, 15 years ago, our brother died. Every year, I try to remember it in a special way, but this year, I spent it in airports and on airplanes and freeways.
It is strange to be older than your older brother ever was. It is not the natural order.
But I don't need an anniversary to remind me of him. He touches my life somehow every day.
I look at my DVD collection, and half of them are things we would watch together, or the sort of things we would watch together.
I look at my legos and remember the hours we would spend building imaginitive new worlds together.
I look at my bookshelf and see the Worldbook 1981 Encyclopedia that we learned about the world with together.
I look in my closet and see his jackets that no longer fit me, but I couldn't bear to throw out.
I go to Yoga class with a new coworker and friend who lost her brother a few months ago, and I share my stories in hopes that she can feel less alone.
I look at the scar on my hand and remember...
Maybe I was weakened a bit that day 15 years ago... but maybe I was remade strong.
I miss you, brother, and I love you.
Last night I was in Maryland having a crab-eating contest with a new colleague of mine. Between the two of us, we tossed back several salted boiled crabs between pints of Sam Adams. Not a bad way to build rapport with a woman I'll be working with for the next year or so.
Maryland crabs aren't quite as good as Alaskan King Crab, but they'll do in a pinch.
All this travelling around does get to me, but I did get a chance to finish The Poisonwood Bible, a truly spectacular book. Read it if you get a chance.
I called my sister in tonight. We exchanged pleasantries and danced around the one thing that was on both our minds. She told me she saw Devo live and about her upcoming laser surgery. I talked about my new roommate and the idea of going abroad again. We both bitched about our shitty president...
... then there was the long silence.
"Do you remember today?" I asked.
"Yeah." She replied.
On this day, 15 years ago, our brother died. Every year, I try to remember it in a special way, but this year, I spent it in airports and on airplanes and freeways.
It is strange to be older than your older brother ever was. It is not the natural order.
But I don't need an anniversary to remind me of him. He touches my life somehow every day.
I look at my DVD collection, and half of them are things we would watch together, or the sort of things we would watch together.
I look at my legos and remember the hours we would spend building imaginitive new worlds together.
I look at my bookshelf and see the Worldbook 1981 Encyclopedia that we learned about the world with together.
I look in my closet and see his jackets that no longer fit me, but I couldn't bear to throw out.
I go to Yoga class with a new coworker and friend who lost her brother a few months ago, and I share my stories in hopes that she can feel less alone.
I look at the scar on my hand and remember...
Maybe I was weakened a bit that day 15 years ago... but maybe I was remade strong.
I miss you, brother, and I love you.
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
kungfuvoodoo:
So what does it take to get an image posted in my journal around here?
clara:
Thanks for the compliments. It is a bit strange what will and won't remind us of the ones who've gone.