Week 2 – 013/365
Last night was my last night with my family, and justifiably I was moody from it. I’m 23 (almost 24) and my brother is 11 (almost 12) and we’re at the right ages where we don’t squabble, fight or tease each other and we genuinely miss each other.
While walking around the house, I saw two of my brother’s best friends lying on this bed.
When my brother was about four or five, our grandfather visited us for the first time in my or my brother’s life and gave him Bo (foreground). Bo was given to us in a time where we had a lively yellow Labrador Retriever named Johnnie who stole and tore up stuffed animals and ripped colored scrunchies from my hair.
Hours, maybe even days later Bo lost an ear to Johnnie, and his eyes were permanently damaged. A machine wash and sewing kit later, Bo was repaired with one ear more lopsided than the other. After months of fluff being assaulted by flesh, an ear and tail went missing for good and a ‘replacement’ for Bo was bought.
But my brother never abandoned Bo, and the replacement was Joe, a carbon copy of Bo. Now they were twins (Joe was older by 1 year, my brother reasons, but they are still twins). Bo and Joe Barkly came with us for every car ride, adventure and nap through my brother’s life. They shared naps, snacks, unintentional swimming adventures and further ‘playtime’ with Johnnie. While Joe was less scarred than Bo, there was not one drop of love given more to one brother than another. They are confidantes, friends and adventurers, not toys.
Now being a big boy of 11, my brother no longer naps, Johnnie has long since gone, but they still have our use. I imagine when I was away and my brother found out he had diabetes shortly after his 11th birthday, he turned to the brothers for comfort. I do know that every time he is sick, scared or upset, he turns to them and holds one in each arm.
By the time this post goes public, I should be on my train or waiting or my train. Good travels all.