Chapter 17 - BrothersMichael and I began having lunch together every Thursday.
At first, the conversations were awkward.
Then they weren't.
We argued about baseball.
Politics.
Construction.
History.
Food.
He teased me about being the older brother who technically wasn't older.
I teased him about teaching teenagers.
One afternoon, he asked:
“Do you ever wish we had known each other as kids?”
I looked out the restaurant window.
Dallas traffic crawled below us.
“Every day.”
He nodded.
“Me too.”
Neither of us knew how to repair forty-six missing years.
So we stopped trying.
We started with the next one.
Then the next.
Sometimes healing isn't dramatic.
Sometimes it is just answering the phone when someone calls.
Showing up.
Sharing a meal.
Learning someone's favorite song.
May you like
Discovering that the stranger sitting across from you has your father's laugh.
And slowly realizing he has become your brother.
