Monday, March 13, 2006

The Good Stuff

My brother has a habit; just like any other 16 year old, of making plans to go somewhere and never really worrying about the finer details... For instance; how he's getting there and getting back home. His main concern is the fact that he can go. Leave the rest to the parents or, in my case, the ever loyal sister who frequently does the drop off & pick up.
This one particular time, I dropped him at a friend's house and thought I made it clear that he would need to find a means of getting back home. Did I really have any pressing plans that I couldn't mend a little? Probably not. But on with the story. I dropped him off, only to find out later that I, in fact, was the ride home too. So I decided on a time I would pick him up; of course, more or less throwing around my authority to do so. On my way there, still totally perturbed that I got the last minute "I need a ride home" call, I kept reminding myself that I had specifically told him when I would be there and that I was not waiting while he dilly dallied inside or took his time finishing up that last round on the Playstation. I would pull up and honk once and get more frustrated by every minute he wasn't in the car. But...all in that same instant, my attitude changed as I came upon the house. When you're coming up on the house, from the direction I was, you can clearly see the kitchen in almost it's entirety. I could see the table and everyone seated around it having dinner. My brother's friend and his family. Mom, Dad, sister...and then there was my brother. I turned the corner and didn't even honk, announcing my arrival. I didn't want to take that moment away from him. I couldn't remember the last time that my family (myself,my two sisters, my brother, and my parents) had sat in that same setting together. I knew that although my brother wasn't having quality time with his own family; he had been with another family. And that was all that mattered to me. I could see everyone smiling and most likely sharing small talk about one thing or another. He usually has dinner with my dad and Stepmom, but this time just reminded me so much of when we were younger. Before my parents had divorced. Our dinner time was so important. There was no TV and we talked about things. School, work...Etc. We were a family. So I sat a while and then decided to honk to finally let him know I was there and he came out all smiles telling me how they'd all had dinner, as he proudly displayed the Taco wrapped in Saran wrap in his pocket. His friend's mom had wanted him to take it since he didn't finish it. So, he even got a little souvenir of what was probably the first family dinner he'd had in a long time. It just meant a lot to me and in the end, I know it did to him too.

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