My baby brother, Derek, is coming home from Afghanistan earlier than expected. I’m not sure the reason, but I found out last weekend that he will be home on my 30th birthday. By “home,” I mean back in the United States. I couldn’t ask for a better birthday gift than having him on American soil and away from the war.
Six or seven years ago, I was flying to Paris Island to watch my brother graduate from boot camp on my birthday. There were a lot of tears that weekend. Some seeing how grown up the military made my brother (who was generally a really bad kid growing up!) but also A LOT of them due to flight delays because of a horrible snow storm. I was crying to the lady at the counter telling her I COULDN’T miss my brother graduating from boot camp. It was a long, long night to get to Paris Island, but I made it, around 2AM.
Even though my brother and I don’t see each other often, nor do we talk much (my brother is not much of a talker,) I love him so much. We’ve been told that we are two of the closest siblings people have met. That strikes me as odd, because I don’t see us as that close, especially since he’s been in the military for nearly 8 years. But I know that if I ever need him, he’d be here for me. I hope that he knows the same is true for me.
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