Hell or High Water, Heaven or Low-Tide
Jesus said we ought to love our brother, and I think I understand this better than most. With a solid history of terrorizing me in our youth, and many a tear shed due to his abrasive nature. But I love my brother. I'm the first to stick up for him. I would side with him any day in an argument with my mom. I know my brother loves me too.
He will be driving me home from Minnesota to Chicago, dragging my bones across state lines and perhaps staying here for a night or two. I'm not sure how to entertain him, or myself, when he stays here. We don't have much to relate to each other. Phone conversations are brief and insignificant. Live conversations are about general life and politics. I've become his keeper, as of late. I buy cards and Christmas presents for him to give to family members. One time me and a friend of mine stayed at his house in the city and I had to wake him up and drive his hungover shell to work because I noticed that he had overslept his alarm.
It's odd to feel this content with life. I'm not searching for anything more, and time will just bring more happiness. Stability. I'm going to teach, I decided. That means Graduate School. And possible summers studying in Prague. Or maybe it's talking on the phone for hours or afternoons missing her while basking in the sun peaking through the windows and a post-coital glow. Or maybe it's the thought of going home and having it be a true homecoming. The prodigal son returns. I'm the youngest one in our family to live far away. Sure Josh moved to Japan, but not until he finished college. I haven't seen Minnesota for three months.
Maybe it's reconciliations with people I haven't spoken to in months, people from my hometown. My best friends from high school. I spent so much time this summer pushing everyone away, and now that I am away, I am spending time mending. Maybe it's the fact that I can be a confidant for those who need one. But I know what it really is. I know what allows me to forgive myself.
And it's scary to think about futures. Mine, yours, his, hers. Ours. Where I'll end up. Where you'll end up. If we'll end up together. The fact that I'm even thinking about the future again. So I listen to love songs.
"I'd like to fall asleep to the beat of you breathing."
And it's true.
He will be driving me home from Minnesota to Chicago, dragging my bones across state lines and perhaps staying here for a night or two. I'm not sure how to entertain him, or myself, when he stays here. We don't have much to relate to each other. Phone conversations are brief and insignificant. Live conversations are about general life and politics. I've become his keeper, as of late. I buy cards and Christmas presents for him to give to family members. One time me and a friend of mine stayed at his house in the city and I had to wake him up and drive his hungover shell to work because I noticed that he had overslept his alarm.
It's odd to feel this content with life. I'm not searching for anything more, and time will just bring more happiness. Stability. I'm going to teach, I decided. That means Graduate School. And possible summers studying in Prague. Or maybe it's talking on the phone for hours or afternoons missing her while basking in the sun peaking through the windows and a post-coital glow. Or maybe it's the thought of going home and having it be a true homecoming. The prodigal son returns. I'm the youngest one in our family to live far away. Sure Josh moved to Japan, but not until he finished college. I haven't seen Minnesota for three months.
Maybe it's reconciliations with people I haven't spoken to in months, people from my hometown. My best friends from high school. I spent so much time this summer pushing everyone away, and now that I am away, I am spending time mending. Maybe it's the fact that I can be a confidant for those who need one. But I know what it really is. I know what allows me to forgive myself.
And it's scary to think about futures. Mine, yours, his, hers. Ours. Where I'll end up. Where you'll end up. If we'll end up together. The fact that I'm even thinking about the future again. So I listen to love songs.
"I'd like to fall asleep to the beat of you breathing."
And it's true.