I'm sitting here listening to John Mayer as I am finally loading all of my CDs into iTunes. "83" is playing, and the song makes me long for more innocent days. Maybe it's getting older, but lately I'm remembering so many childhood experiences. There's a phrase in "83" that makes me think of my little brother and how much I miss him and the relationship we had when we were kids.
I just wish he knew that I've never stopped feeling for him the way I did then.
We were inseperable until I turned 15, got a job, saved enough money for my first car. I left home at 18 in a fit of independence. If you had lived there, you'd understand. I had to get out. I got engaged, went off to college, found out she was seeing someone else, broke up, met new people at college and eventually accepted being gay.
At the time my mother rejected me and lectured me about things in the Bible (I could go on about my beliefs and that I think the purity of the Bible has been compromised throughout the last 2,000 years -- but not here, not now). And since my brother was only eleven and still at home, I was kept pretty far away. I am sure he felt abandoned and didn't understand. I don't know what he was told. I don't suppose things will ever be like they were for us. We live hundreds of miles from each other and see one another barely once a year. He's busy, on the road most of the time and rarely answers his phone.
But I am proud of him, I love him. And, I miss him.