Oh my brother

There are few people who knew I have a brother.

Because we haven’t talked with each other for so many years.

I loved him. When we were little. But as we grew up, there were so little place for so conversation, and we even started to hate each other. Because of the competition by my father.

And for the first time in almost 10 years, he walked to me, saying he fixed the faucet. An easy, simple thing, “I fixed the faucet.” He came home for the presidential election.

And he got a girlfriend, almost settled down there I guess. Easily noticed, because he started to want to talk to the others actively. And on long weekends he won’t come south.

He gave me loads of tips for how to invest, as if all the fights before were gone.

In this house, people always pretend.

I pretend too. I pretend I didn’t cry, I took over his books, and gave him instructions on choosing professors in masters.

He solumnly put the note in his notebook. Remember my tips, kid.

And when I realized he was gone, I started crying, but a relief and sad cry. A mom cry maybe, I compare myself to him, I am happy for him.

Yeah, since the last time we spoke properly, maybe ten years passed by.