I live at one end of our upstairs hallway with my parents and my dad’s office. The boys take up the other end, filling the air with a pungent odor of testosterone.
Or, at least, that’s how it used to be.
I just realized that I haven’t called, texted, tweeted at or Facebook messaged my brother Trevor in ages. I haven’t even spoken to him since Christmas.
I just texted Adam and even saw Jordan over the weekend. But, honestly, none of them cross my mind on that regular of a basis.
We don’t talk on the phone. We don’t text. We don’t tweet at each other and we rarely exchange Facebook messages. That’s just how we are.
If I had a sister this might be different. Maybe I would call her, fill her in on what’s going on in my life and share some juicy gossip.
But I don’t have a sister.
Family is a funny thing –– brothers especially.
The unconditional love thing is great. Trevor probably hasn’t even realized that we haven’t spoken in over a month. And it’s just not a big deal.