Friends

In both photographs, the child on the right is my son. (bottom: Asher; top: Seth) So, you are looking at my two boys and their best friends. Believe it or not, Asher and Seth are best friends. My brother and I were best friends for a short while. From the time I was born until the time I was 16, we moved 11 times. As a result, my brother, who is 3 years younger than I, and I depended on one another. He especially depended on me. At age 16, however, I had a life. I worked. I went to school. I participated in community theatre. I dated. I partied my ass off. I lost contact with my brother. Years later, when I was 20, my mother called me greatly distressed. She needed me right away because my brother was uncontrollable. I drove 30 miles to confront a brother who did not know me. I knew him, though. Leaving most of that story for another time, I will say that three days later my brother was in the Army. He is a different person today. We have been better friends at times, but not best friends. I sometimes wish that I had not desired so badly to leave home. Or that I could have taken him with me. Other times, I understand that each person has to face life as they will. When I think back to that three and a half years when I "moved on," I honestly cannot remember him. I do remember seeing him in passing. I remember a day when I looked at him and wondered when his style changed, when his friends changed, who was he? I moved on, though. There is much to revisit on later posts, but these photos of Asher and Seth are nothing compared to the many photos of them together. I hope they are always best friends. I hope they never feel more compelled than the typical teenager to leave home. And when they leave, I hope they never move on so completely that they lose each other to time, to others, to a life that stands at the door and beckons. I want them to understand fully that a life worth living is a life shared.