“Not unless your brother goes too.”
“But he’ll hold us back.”
“You don’t go without him son, and that’s final.”
All my life… the same old story. David couldn’t run, was no good at sports. He couldn’t even get a girl, so he was always hanging around with me and mine.
And now he sits by my bedside, high-fives me and winks.
“Way to go, Pete. See you when you come round.”
I was forced to share so much with him as a kid. But nobody had to ask twice for him to share his bone marrow with me.
Too little inspiration, too little time, so it’s a re-run for me I’m afraid. I remember feeling slightly uncomfortable when I posted this five years back. My discomfort with sentimentality has only continued to ferment over time, I see. 😦 Thanks to Rochelle for leading out the field of Friday Fictioneers once again this week.