My brother Mr2m is visiting.
He is very tall, and skinny.
I love my brother.
He is the only one I have.
As kids we played together.We were 'brothers in arms'.
We constructed playmobile cities in our living room.
They ended up so big and vast my mum couldn't enter the kitchen anymore.
We screamed in unison when she told us to break down our fortresses , trainstations and indian camps.
We built camps in the woods around the house together.
One of them we called our 'Pino nest'.
Remember Pino? from Sesamy street?
The nest was built from pinetree branches.
I have no idea now where we got them from.
Blank memory.
But I do remember the nest, high up in a cherry tree.
Tucked away in the nest we would pick and eat the cherries and be lazy in the afternoon.
One day , we had built another camp, and we decided to built a fire in it.
My mum chose that exact moment to enter the construction.
That is what mothers do. Their antennes are set so they know when we are doing silly things.
It got even more silly when Mr2m sat down on the fire, to cover it up.
I can't remember what mum said , or did, but I will remember his face forever.
He did not move a muscle!
As students we lived in the same appartement.
We saw each other each day at the appartement and each night at a party.
He met some of my boyfriends, I never really knew his girlfriends.
To this day there is only one he allowed us to meet.
I love her too, but if she ever breaks his heart, I will personally kill her. :-)
My brother will always be there for me when I need him, no matter where he is, or what time it is.
I can call him, I can show up in front of his door.
He is the most secure and safe person in my life.
He is my 3-year younger brother and remembers vividly how I used to read to him.
I can remember vaguely.
He told me how I would make up stories for him at night when we couldn't sleep.
I do remember that, as it got me into trouble for coming out of bed.
He remembers how I used to create little booklets, with stories and pictures I made up, to read to him in bed.
The booklest are gone, lost during a move.
I really regret that.
I would have loved to see my imagination as a child.
I am sure it would have inspired me.
He is very tall, and skinny.
I love my brother.
He is the only one I have.
As kids we played together.We were 'brothers in arms'.
We constructed playmobile cities in our living room.
They ended up so big and vast my mum couldn't enter the kitchen anymore.
We screamed in unison when she told us to break down our fortresses , trainstations and indian camps.
We built camps in the woods around the house together.
One of them we called our 'Pino nest'.
Remember Pino? from Sesamy street?
The nest was built from pinetree branches.
I have no idea now where we got them from.
Blank memory.
But I do remember the nest, high up in a cherry tree.
Tucked away in the nest we would pick and eat the cherries and be lazy in the afternoon.
One day , we had built another camp, and we decided to built a fire in it.
My mum chose that exact moment to enter the construction.
That is what mothers do. Their antennes are set so they know when we are doing silly things.
It got even more silly when Mr2m sat down on the fire, to cover it up.
I can't remember what mum said , or did, but I will remember his face forever.
He did not move a muscle!
As students we lived in the same appartement.
We saw each other each day at the appartement and each night at a party.
He met some of my boyfriends, I never really knew his girlfriends.
To this day there is only one he allowed us to meet.
I love her too, but if she ever breaks his heart, I will personally kill her. :-)
My brother will always be there for me when I need him, no matter where he is, or what time it is.
I can call him, I can show up in front of his door.
He is the most secure and safe person in my life.
He is my 3-year younger brother and remembers vividly how I used to read to him.
I can remember vaguely.
He told me how I would make up stories for him at night when we couldn't sleep.
I do remember that, as it got me into trouble for coming out of bed.
He remembers how I used to create little booklets, with stories and pictures I made up, to read to him in bed.
The booklest are gone, lost during a move.
I really regret that.
I would have loved to see my imagination as a child.
I am sure it would have inspired me.
Enjoy your evening
Evelyn
Evelyn
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