my younger brother, Eddie, playing a 'fake' banjo which (in his mind) was real
he grew up becoming a musician and band teacher
In the sun-washed corners of childhood, light gathered gently, and like marbles, laughter rolled loose across the floor. We learned the first language of closeness~ small secrets traded like treasures, each one stitching us into the same early story. We wandered our backyard world as if it were vast, unchartered, and unnamed, drawing borders with sticks, letting the garden hose become a river that carried our shouts downstream. Hours blurred into water and sky, and time slipped past us with the ease of sand falling from into an hourglass You colored everything turning ordinary days into wild invention. I followed the bright arc of your imagination, gathering its shadows, spinning them into tales that stretched themselves far beyond the fence line. Now, standing at the quiet edge of my grown life, I still carry your laughter~ a small weightless charm against the heaviness of days. You remain my true north, steady in every remembered moment, every thread woven carefully into the fabric of the life we shared.
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