I grew up with two brothers. One was three years older than me, Kody, and he was sweet and thoughtful and a little cranky. He hasn't changed much (wink, wink, I love ya, Kod). The other was two years younger than me, Jack, a warm and funny over-thinker. He hasn't changed much, either (wink, wink, I love ya, Jack).
I miss my brothers.
I call them from time to time, but you know guys. They aren't the greatest phone conversationalists, unless they need advise from their only sister, or an ear to receive happy news during happy times. I'm always here for them, though, cheering them on, and loving them, and appreciating them, and they know that. Nobody appreciates you like your siblings. They saw you slurp your cereal every morning at the breakfast table and they saw you with chicken pox and acne and they heard the awkward things you said in middle school. In spite of all of that, and really, because of all of that, they love you like nobody else can. Not in the same way, anyway. Not in that fiercely loyal way, that unconditional way. That stand-the-test-of-time way.
So now that I've gushed a bit, I will lighten things up with this hilarious and wonderful and perfect image of my little brother, Jack, dressed for a costume party this weekend. My mom sent me this picture yesterday, and I went running through the house rounding up the husband and the kids to come and take a look at Uncle Jack. I mean, he has always resembled Elijah Wood, but come on. This is just uncanny. I love it!
p.s. I would have posted a picture of you too, Kod, if you would have dressed up. Maybe next year? xxoo