4.3.2020 - family affair

𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, "𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴: 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦. 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴."

i said, “i’m sorry.”

i said, “forgive me.”

i said, “i love you.”

and the world was silent.

am i my brother’s keeper?

am i my brother’s keeper?

am i? i am. am i? i am.

and so it was. then i got older, and i became my mother’s keeper, too. then my father’s, tears streaming down my face for the only example of a good man i’ve ever consistently known. i am my brother’s keeper, but no one more so than you.

it was always you.

“𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴 — 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴..”

equal parts protector and protected, the shine in your eyes as we heard the train approaching. the split second of decision; you darted forward, eyes blank and gleaming, and i grabbed you. you threw yourself forward as i pulled back with every ounce of strength i had. two small bodies hit the concrete of an mta train station like an nfl takedown and i never once resented you. eyes locked across rooms, streets, tables, states, and countries and somehow, i always know. the world is spinning in the wrong direction, so we talk like no one can hear us. for the longest time, no one could. you sigh and admit that you’ve been cold. 

i sigh because i‘ve known this all along.

“𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴: 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦. 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦.”

ice melts under intense heat, and i’ve never been accused of having any chill. you drank until neither of us could see and drove straight through till morning, every single time. master of self destruction, i sat at your feet and watched in awe as you bent reality to your will. you moved effortlessly through school. through life. through the harsh dimness of the world. and i sat at your feet holding my breath as you wove summers into ornate tapestries, presenting them before god and our most willing council.

am i my brother's keeper?