For my brother

This is my brother, Tim.

If he knew that I was posting this, he would probably roll his eyes, tell me to take it down, make a snarky comment, or do some combination of the three.  But since he rarely gets on Facebook and he's not twiddling his thumbs in anticipation of my next blog post, I'll carry on.

For the past few years, Tim and I have generally lived in separate states, with the exception of the two years that we overlapped at OU.  Although we lived apart, I had the comfort of knowing that I would always see Tim when I went home to Flower Mound, a short 2.5 hours away.

Today, Tim moves to Boston and then on to Puerto Rico or the Virgin Islands after 6-8 weeks of training for his new job as a commercial pilot.  Undoubtedly, either location would be a perfect vacation spot, and while I'm happy for him in his new venture, I'm sad for me.  Texas is temporarily losing a pretty great guy.  (I say temporarily because if you know how much Tim loves Flower Mound, you know he'll eventually make his
way back.)

There are days when I think that Piper will be our first and last child.  She is such a good little girl, but babies will inevitably be babies, and I wonder how I could possibly handle another one. Then, I think that one day in the distant future, I will regret the fact that she is an only child.  My own brother makes me want to give her a brother or a sister.

Tim and I fought constantly as kids.  From the back of the stroller, he would yank on my curly blonde ponytail, so I would stand on him until his face turned red when we got home.  He took my toys, so I hid
his stuff.  Every game was a competition, and every family vacation was a bickering mess in the back seat.  But in the quiet moments, probably when we thought our parents weren't looking, we were friends.  He taught me everything I know about Legos, and together we made secret plans to play tricks on our mom.  When we stayed at my grandpa's house and shared a bedroom, we laid in our beds, sometimes for hours, and talked until one of us fell asleep.  As we've gotten older, our friendship has grown, and all of the things that caused fights as kids seem so trivial now.  No one quite understands you like the one(s) who grew up with you.  I want that kind of relationship for my daughter.

Tim and I have a mutual dislike for talking on the phone, so we probably don't communicate as often as we should or would like, but I always know that he'd be among the first to come running if I ever needed anything.  He's one of the most consistent, caring, passionate, hardworking, humble, and selfless people I know.  That became even more evident today as a constant stream of friends stepped through my parents' doors to wish him well.  Obviously this isn't "goodbye," but it seemed like a good time to talk about the guy that people call "friend," "son," "uncle," "grandson," "nephew," "coach," and "instructor."  I'm the only one that gets to call him "brother," and I think that makes me a pretty lucky girl.  I love you, Tim!