This story has been told here before, and probably in better detail, but I’m going over it again because it’s a sweet one. When my brother and I were kids, before adolescence and personality quirks defined and distanced us from one another, we generally got along pretty well. Born just a year and a half apart, but diametrically opposed as to the season (his birthday is today; mine is as far as you can get from the calendar day – August 24) we managed to maintain a pretty close friendship, mostly because for a lot of the time we were all we had. Not that we didn’t have arguments and periods of not getting along, but we always came back to each other. And every once in a while we’d feel extremely loving and generous and put it on display.
While we were close, we were lucky enough to have our own bedrooms, separated by the wide berth of stairs and hall that led from one side of the house to the other. On one particular weekend afternoon, when the winter sun was not quite deigning to shine, and we were holed up inside for the day, one of us – and I wish I could remember who initiated it – placed a small gift outside the door of the other. It wasn’t anything major – maybe a candy bar or a small toy or keepsake – something silly, but the meaning of it came through. We weren’t always so kind. On this day, it inspired the other one to return the favor, and soon there was a succession of little gifts that we left outside the door of the other. We raced back to our own rooms before we were discovered each time. It went on for a little while, and it touched me in ways that remain to this very day. I often think back to that afternoon, and it always makes me smile.
Today marks my brother’s birthday, so this is my little gift to him, dropped in this online room, waiting for him to discover it. Happy birthday, baby brother.
