My Brother's Sweatshirt

I don't know why I took off my sweatshirt today to put on Owen's. Maybe it's because Mother Nature once again swept spring out from under our feet and guy sweatshirts are so much better than girl sweatshirts––baggy, warm, big enough to curl up into a ball under. Owen's now big enough that I can fit into his sweatshirts, even though he's younger than me. Maybe it's because he's my brother, and it was comforting. Maybe it's both.

Tonight was one of those nights I love my brother, and I feel like I need to say it because there are times I have to remind myself that I do. Last night was one of those nights, too. The saying, "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em" seems to be written for siblings. I don't know what it was last night or tonight, but I just appreciated him.

I've realized that I like taking care of Owen, but only when he doesn't expect it. I like the mornings when I make him his PB&J on Scali bread with Skippy® peanut butter, sealed in a ziplock bag instead of plastic wrap. Two lemonade juice boxes chilled in the freezer. Something crunchy. Something sweet. Peanut butter crackers or a granola bar if he's staying after school. I like making him eggs at 11:30pm when he's gotten home late from a basketball game. I like when he asks me what sneakers he should wear in the morning, even though I don't have an opinion. Usually, I even like struggling over a math problem together.

I guess what I liked the past two days is that he didn't have any of his friends to act cool around. He didn't have to act like he was too cool for his big sister.