O Brother, Where art Thou?

I

I swear to God in heaven that I was going to write satire today, as I know I needed it, and maybe a few of my readers did as well.  I was preparing a little number about my husband’s hilarious bedside manner if you will.  I saved the draft, but after just promising my brother that family was off limits for my writing career, I write a blog about, well, family.

When I grew up, Craig and I were very close-he was my best friend.  Our crazy childhood was a bonding agent, and that explains why it was so hard for me to let go of him when he went out to California.  We were younger, stubborn, and hadn’t matured in the way we finally and fabulously have now.  He on one side of the country, me on the other.  When this song came out, I don’t know why, but to me it was “our” song-maybe it was the girl with the long blonde hair…..I don’t know, but I could literally feel his presence when I heard it for the first time.  It was so comforting.

When we went out to visit him ten years ago (prior to my sobriety, and I have to say-I had a blast and it was worth it) I cried from the minute he walked away, through the entire flight back home, and for weeks and weeks straight.  I was going through such a depression (alcohol didn’t help) when we came back from LA, that my therapist agreed to hypnotize me to the place I felt safest, and for whatever reason, my brother’s apartment was the scene.  It ended up to be a futility, as it turns out, I can’t be hypnotized.  (I once went onstage with 40 other people at a Renaissance Faire.  The magician was going to put us all to sleep.  Imagine my surprise when people fell over by the dozens, and I was the sole person sitting up and alert on the stage)  I felt loved and understood out there, had quality time with my adorable niece, his wife and their cats.

But I have something to say, and in our family-let’s face it-it is very difficult to talk of our feelings.  But this is on my heart, my brother, and I want you to know that I am so thankful that we made it out of the shitstorm, and back to one another.  You have always seemed to get me, and I feel a lift in my loafers at the prospect of a genuine friendship once again.  Having just one person understand you, know your entire history, appreciate your uniqueness and faults as well as your assets, well, that person is a keeper.

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother………..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s