Brother
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you
are rarely ones I spent with you.
One day, I rummaged through our cassette collection
to find peeling tape on the black rectangle labeled
“Joey’s third birthday.”
The blue fuzz on the television diminished to show you,
sure enough of yourself on your high chair.
I was probably napping in a crib somewhere,
while you were getting so excited about your birthday.
The camera waved on Daddy’s shoulder
as you shouted “I’m pee, I’m pee!”
The saline trailed down my cheeks,
as I said “Mom, come watch this.”
We sat on the couch, while you starred on tv.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you
are ones I spent beside you.
Halloween night, I rummaged through my pillow-case
for sugary salvation.
The green tights made you a regular Peter Pan.
I was Tink and probably content with my wand,
while you posed for some pictures.
We were getting so excited about trick or treating.
The kids on the street came in waves,
as we shouted “trick or treat!”
The saline trailed down my cheeks,
as I moaned “Daddy I’m tired.”
He carried me home, while you walked alongside.
Brother, my favorite memories I have of you
are ones where you transcended my expectations.
On March 16th, you rummaged through
the last moments of your childhood as you became a man.
The stained-glass windows of the synagogue
made you nervous.
I was talking with our grandparents while you stepped
up to the Bimah.
We were getting so excited about this day.
Your voice came out in waves, as you shouted
“Amen” and the prayers of our people
The saline trailed down Dad’s cheeks,
as he said my son is a man.
He stood beside you, while you carried the Torah.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you
are ones we spent together as a family.
At the end of summer, we rummaged through
your luggage and brought it to your room in South Carolina.
The white walls of your dorm made you a regular
college student.
I was probably checking out your roommates
while you were greeting future friends.
The waves were crashing on the beaches nearby,
as we shouted “goodbye Joe!”
The saline trailed down mom’s cheeks,
as she said “I’m going to miss you”
We drove home, while you discovered college wasn’t for you.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you,
are ones where I watched you grow.
At the beginning of spring, you rummaged through
your paperwork and brought it to the Coast Guard recruit.
The blue uniforms that they wore made you
a little intimidated.
I was probably making fun of you for wanting to serve
our country,
while you were getting in top shape.
The recruiters wave to you as you board the bus,
as they shouted “Semper Paratus, Always Ready!”
The saline trailed down your cheeks,
as you said “I’m not sure if I can take this anymore”
The group pushed on, while you moved up to the top.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you
are ones where your bravery shines through.
In January, you rummaged through your belongings
to bring on the trip to Colombia.
The yellow, blue, and red flag was never seen by you.
I was probably watching television,
while you were told there was an earthquake in Haiti.
You were in the waves of soldiers that came into help,
and you all shouted “we need assistance, now!?”
The saline trailed down the victim’s cheeks,
as they asked “Can you promise we’ll make it through?”
The fear raged on, while you assisted as you could.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you,
are ones where you became as important as sunlight.
Late January, you were rummaging through the rubble
to save people who were buried alive.
The red blood was as intense as it ever needed to be.
I was probably comforting our parents,
while you were not heard from for some time.
There were waves of pictures to sort through
on the Coast Guard website,
and I shouted “Mom, Dad, you must see this!”
The saline trailed down as cheeks,
as we said “that’s our son, in his uniform, carrying
an injured man.”
The days went by, while you were finally able to
tell us that you were alright.
Brother, my favorite moments I have with you
are when you sail on through life’s disasters.
Early February, you were rummaging through
your memories of what had happened in Haiti.
The black thoughts creep in too often.
I was probably praying for you to stay safe,
while you were just intent on making it by.
The waves supported your boat,
as you shouted “Dad, I miss you!” into the phone.
The saline trailed down his cheeks,
as he said “you made it through, Joey.”
The time goes by, and you’re still our little soldier.
morning and seeing about ten things you want to eat. Too much of a decision, so you just overeat instead. LAME.
