Monday, October 27, 2008

OUR LIVES

Our paths should not have crossed. Not at this time. Not in this place. He had been in Paris (no, not that Paris), and I was headed for The Sound.

The water was a bit choppier than usual. I had forgotten to take the requisite Dramamine. Those who know me well know I can't even manage a carnival ride without major nausea. So it's no surprise, then, that I "went by rail," the old ferry bobbing deliriously like a cork. Am I digressing? The paths that crossed. Yes ... never would've imagined....

The other green passengers and I finally made it to shore. Shaken but safe. The waves were merciless and we nearly took out a section of dolphins before mooring. I was never so glad to hit the shore, and hit it we did. Once on the dock, I dodged the hustle and bustle as best I could, but how do you stop a tidal wave? I simply wanted to get to Town, flag down a cab and get to the old Henderson place and settle in with Betty and Don. They would be glad to see me, I them. It had been too many years.

I got jostled - not the usual or expected jostled - so abruptly that my grip fell to the splintered deck and I lost my balance. Before I completed my tumble forward, I felt a firm clasp on my shoulder. Suspended animation, the descent abruptly arrested. As I regained my composure and a measure of dignity lost, I turned around to thank the stranger who had stopped my fall.

It was no stranger ...


It was Stan, my younger brother. We had neither seen one another nor even talked to each other for the last 5 years. The parting had been acrimonious, to say the least. I was his hero, his mentor in all matters, and he didn't accept my reasons for leaving home. But that was then; this is now. We looked into each other's eyes for what seemed hours, oblivious to that hustle and bustle surrounding us. Neither of us uttered a sound, perhaps each in his own way afraid to be the first to give in (you know, a guy thing).

I knew in the next few moments, however, that we both were home ...

Tears were streaming down the face of my big and tall little brother.