A couple of years ago, the boys and I went to Mom's house for a visit. The boys had recently been in a car accident, and Josh had a fractured rib.
We'd eaten dinner and were just talking at the table. Oliver went wild and up the small flight of stairs at the other side of the house. I went to get him, but with my socks on and the hardwood and Oliver's angry wiggles as I picked him up, I didn't think we'd make it down the stairs. I called out for Josh but remembered his rib. I called out for my brother, James. He was right there, no questions.
"Can you spot me?" I asked.
He came up the stairs and walked down backward, helping me hold up Oliver.
This is a moment I treasure. My brother was there, no hesitation, when I needed him.
Inspiring lists, sparkling reads, and quirky musings from a writer~reader~wife~mama~advocate who wants to seek, create, and savor life's sweet bits.
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