There’s a picture of me in my brother’s lap, right after Mom brought me home from the hospital.
Legend has it that his first gift to me was a cold, which turned to pneumonia, that I’m lucky to be alive.
He’d had 20 months with my parents all to himself. What must he have made of this football-sized intruder?
I came into a world that had always had him. There never was a world without brother.
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PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
