My little brother

Today is the birthday of my youngest brother. We'll call him Andrew (because that's his name). Andrew is 7 years younger than me, and yet we are scarily similar. He's fluent in Japanese. I am fluent in ordering sushi. He is a great poker player, I enjoy Lady Gaga's song "Poker Face". He has rockin' good hair, I also have rockin' good hair. We have the same laugh, we find the same things funny and we both wear our hearts on our sleeves. We've also both been through some crazy-tough times in our lives and have come out stronger.

See, while I lost my mom to cancer when I was 16, Andrew was only 9. It still floors me. 9 years old and losing your mom? How he got through it, I'll never know. I could get in my car and drive (usually with Depeche Mode or The Cure or Alphaville blasting in the stereo of my hatchback). But he was 9. He made it through, though.

He's older now. Living in California. Teaching Japanese. Married to his college sweetheart. They have a beautiful family and a great life and he is loved. If that's not success, I don't know what is.
So for all those who are having a tough day, for all of those who think they are not doing what they should be doing or could be doing, I say to you, "Today is my youngest brother's birthday. And that's a pretty great thing."

This is the life.
- a


  1. Happy Birthday, Andrew!

    I remember when he was born - we had your fold up cot in my bedroom.


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