Dear Boys,

This started as a post about your broken arm, my quiet little second born. I was going to write about getting a call from the school nurse, hearing about your stoic teary-ness, telling you on the phone that I'd be right there.

I started looking for pictures of you doing your dare devil acts. The tree climbing, the jumping, the running. I found lots of pictures, but they all took me on a detour away from the broken arm.

I sat at the computer staring at all these pictures of the two of you playing together and having fun.

You are both asleep now. My brave second born, you are sleeping on the pull-out couch in the living room. I read you three stories that you have heard before. Tracks, Broom-Mates, and our latest favorite, The Boy Who Was Raised by Librarians. You, my 2B, related to this little boy who collected bugs (and tripped one day, spilling them everywhere), you ask me the same questions about the story each time we read it.

"How old is he in this picture, mommy?" "Which librarian is named Betty?"

You fell asleep fast with your splint. The swelling has to go down before you get your cast.

My first born, well, you are not really asleep. You are reading in my bed next to your dad. You'll probably fall asleep there and stay there all night.
When I told 1B about 2B's arm, he got big interested eyes. Really? A broken arm?
When 2B came home from the doctor, he held out his arm for 1B to look at.
See? Look what happened to me today.

I hope you boys always stay as close as you are today. I hope you always remember how you rely on each other. One of you runs into the water, the other follows. One of you jumps in with his whole body, the other does the same.


You can not wait to tell each other about your new discoveries, or show each other your newest drawings.

And I really love how you both are such different kids. Even down to your looks. I love how you remind me of your aunt and I as little girls.

And how you can be so different from each other yet be so connected.


Here you are, 5 and 7, last spring. Looking out at the Grand Canyon. Our family road trip before little girl was born. I see the seeds of many road trips. Road trips as teenagers without your parents, but just the two of you.
Amigos

Brothers