I could have sworn I saw my little brother today, at the the bus stop near my house. Same build, same hair, same walk. I double took as I drove by, and then sat in my driveway for a minute debating how crazy it would seem if I walked over, saw it wasn’t him and walked back to my house. It reminded me so much of right after my mom died, when I would see a thin, dusty blonde woman in a crowd and have to restrain myself from yelling her name. I still hear her laugh occasionally on a city bus, or walking across campus, and look around. It’s not her, I know that. But it doesn’t stop my stomach from fluttering, and my hands to shake a little.
So while it is onebazilllion percent more likely that it could have been my brother, than any of those women were ever my mom (the death factor and all), I am chalking my ‘sighting’ this morning up to the fact that I miss him. I do not let myself dwell on it, because really, what can I do? But in little ways, I am reminded how much I wish he would just show up at my front door.