You're home.

This is my brother David.

When he was probably about 8, he went by "DaveDave" for several weeks.

Now, when I say "my brother," I don't only mean it in the sense that we are male siblings.  I mean he's mine.  When he and Erik were born, Kris and I each picked one.  Nevermind that I probably couldn't tell them apart until they were 5, we each had our own brother and that was how it was going to be.

For a while, maybe it was. I don't really remember, much of my childhood is a blur to me now.

Wasted, constantly.

 

 

In any case, by the time they were actual human beings (10ish?) neither of them belonged to Kris or me.  They were firmly in their own world, and that was fine. The bond of twins is sometimes bizarre, sometimes hilarious, and always closer than the bond you get just for being related to somebody.

I wouldn't say we "grew apart," that implies some change in course. We just didn't hang out a whole lot.  And now, somehow, he's the furthest member of my immediate family from me, geographically speaking.  As a result, I think it's possible that the twin that I chose, that my brother, is the one I know least.

Even typing that makes me a little upset, like I just said something hurtful.

But I'm here, in Lubbock, and last night we did a little catching up.  I've missed a lot. Not out of negligence, I just wasn't there, with him.  He wasn't there, with me, either, when I turned into an adult.  I don't know.  Maybe 28 years in, I'm still not sure how families work.