I miss my brother.

It’s more subtle than it once was; a quiet melt instead of a deep thaw. Shades and nuances that lend themselves to a sense of longing, even if I couldn’t tell you exactly what I long for.

Nostalgia. Another life. Something intangible, yet lit with home fires, that nobody else could ever see or understand.

Today I jumped puddles with him; 4 and 5 years old; Alaska in August; rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. We made a game of it while Dad worked on his ’77 Chevy Suburban and mom served delicatessen burritos for lunch. We giggled while we ate, and she taught us the meaning of the phrase “raining like cats and dogs.”

Yesterday we sat in the stars, him and I. I left my home in Kauai for awhile, traveled upwards, wondered at what it is like up and out and in the other world. He feels busy; a jovially bossy tour guide in the afterlife. I get a strong impression of him helping people cross over and reorient themselves there.

This morning his old car took myself and my husband and the pups to the beach. “Beastie” I call her, a gold ’02 Durango that has seen more adventure with me behind the wheel than it did in his life. A year ago I had just claimed his truck as mine. We initiated it by driving way on up a twisty semblance of an old mining road, packed with cold streams and shale boulders to go camp by a waterfall in Valdez, Alaska.

This year brings new terrain.

Run faster, swim in the ocean, go adventure, I hear him say. Eat a slice of prime rib for me, be generous with the baked potato. Don’t forget about desert. Do all the things I can no longer do ‘lil sis. Don’t just do it for me, do it for you, cherish this gift.

Cherish your life.

A bright rainbow hangs overhead, I stand by his car and stare. I wasn’t supposed to be over here without him, but here is where I find myself. Sparkling waves, new terrain, oceans of change, and a porous heart- never meant for the shallows- still called to swim the deep.

Here is where I find myself.

Here is where I find myself.