I grab my Coupe phone, punch in the number and save it on my phone, then hit SEND. "Oh my goodness," I say as he says hello. "I've missed you so much! I'm so glad you've called."
"Yeah, I was pretty messed up when I left last time. But I'm doing good," he says. This is good news. As a seriously wounded Vietnam Vet, he went through hell... and suffers from PTSD. I worry about him when I don't hear from him and the last 2-1/2 years have been agony to not know where/how he was.
My big brother has always been a nature-lover and woodsman and most especially a fisherman. He's a year (well, actually, 4 days less than a year) older than I am. And from the time we were little, I was his "student." He taught me how to walk, talk, and laugh. He taught me about going out for long walks, about looking at salamanders and frogs and fish, and climbing trees and building forts. (We grew up in Minnesota.) As little kids, we were inseparable. Now, 50 years later, I still hold those memories of him to my heart.
In Boston for one day only, he's traveling with a Korean family (teaching ESL to the father), giving them a quick tour of Niagara Falls, Boston, NYC, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C. in ten days. We meet up at Quincy Market in downtown Boston. Hugs and tears. We have a short but great time together; then it's time for them to leave and the rest of us to go back to work/home.
Throughout the afternoon, I get phone calls from him: "do I take the Green Line or the Red Line," "which bus do I catch to get from MIT to Harvard," and "do you know where we can find a fish market?" I keep my phone in my pocket throughout the rest of the day, just in case.
My Coupe phone has become my lifeline to my brother. I'm so glad he called.
Boom boom boom ~suzy
