There are five of us. I’m the oldest. My youngest brother was the first one married. (We always threatened my grandbaby hungry parents with that fate of waiting. I just don’t think they believed us.) Baby brother was 21 when he got married. I had just turned 30 and was dating an amazing man. Fast forward four and a half years. The twins had weddings two weeks apart the summer they turned 32. Said amazing man got married that same summer – to someone else. A few months later I crossed the 35 mile mark.
And then there were two.
The middle of my three brothers reaches 30 in a couple of months. I just turned 37 last week. We’ve spent a lot of time together this year. We tripped around Europe for a few days this Spring. (Hmmm…flaming goat cheese in Athens. Good times.) Shortly after that he moved back to Utah after working in Australia for a couple of years. He’s been crashing at my house since then while looking for a place of his own. He bought a Riverwoods townhouse last Friday.
It’s been good getting to know him better. I left for school when he was only 10. My brother the 10 year- old: funny kid, a little weird as only little brothers can be. My brother the almost 30 year-old: he’s a pretty incredible man, intelligent, motivated, charming, funny as hell. But, I’m super excited that he’s getting his own place because last night I came home and found him on my couch with a girl. Not that I’m not cheering for him and his hook-up. Yay! But, really? I should be the one getting action on MY couch. And that hasn’t happened in WAY too long.
I think it’s time for me to get back in the game (ah, but is it a game?) of love.