The Year of the Bros

This is the Year of the Bros. For some reason I have spent so much of this year thinking about how much I love my brothers. A lot. It's not like I ever hear from them or get attention from them. It's not like they pushed me out of a speeding bus and saved my life. And sis and I will swallow a lot of shit in life before we realize we are backed into a corner and it'll suddenly occur to one of us to call one of them. And those rare times that we reach out to them they always follow through. I am just happy that they exist, that they are my brothers, that I got to experience some of my life with them, that we are always connected if only by blood. That, in their own way, they care about us and want us to be alright. And they relate to us because we all struggled together as brothers and sisters, and are extremely protective of each other, and triumph and suffer together. I love that I can know, without any doubt, that they are out there, with their bizarre and beautiful versions of American masculinity, and that they are rooting for their baby sisters in their quiet way.