Today marks the day my little brother was born.
I remember well when he came home from the hospital. We lived in Columbia, Mississippi and had (what seemed like at the time) a very large picture window in our living area. I remember standing there with my Nana (great-grandmother) watching and waiting for my baby brother to come home.
And life was never the same.
I give him a hard time but he knows in all seriousness that I love him. And yes, I really do. He’s a good brother. Even when he chased me around the house with a butcher knife and bb gun, he was still my favorite brother. Perhaps because he is my only brother.
Yes, I do love him and am thankful for who he was and who he is today.
Happy Birthday, Skip(per)!