
We had 48 hours and lots of coffee.
He looked different... taller, perhaps. He said it was the heel on his dress shoes, but I think his posture had improved. He was happy, living a dream he had had since he was a small boy. He wanted to pray before we left him. We stood in a circle and I was struck with how much he had grown in spirit and how much life was going to change again. I could feel the tears coming, fuzzy on the edges of my eyes. He warned me not to start, because then he would lose it. Just when I decided I couldn't hold back any longer, he poked me, hard, in the ribs with a long finger. I was laughing, still almost crying, and I smacked him right on his shiny, brass buttons. Yeah... that's my little brother. And I knew everything was going to be okay.
2 comments:
*hugs*
This is happy.
I'm glad you had a joyous family time... and that Jon is taller. I told him he could stand to grow an inch or two. Why stop at being able to reach the top shelf? Go for the ceiling!
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