When I was little, my brother made fun of me a lot. I think it's a requisite chore of older brothers--make fun of younger half-sibling. Especially when she doesn't live with you and you have to have her pesky little self around every other weekend.
He was terrible about my clumsy ways. I was such an awkward child. I had bruises all the time (not much has changed there; still clumsy and easily bruised!) and would drop things often. You know that ohmygosh-almost-had-it-feeling where you're holding something and it just nearly slips out of your hands? I feel growing up that happened to me a lot. Or, I would just plum drop things. It happened often! And, let's be honest. It just still happens.
My brother died in 1995. It's been 14 1/2 years since he's been on this planet. And, since he's been gone, something has come up for me. When I have that almost drop something feeling, and I catch whatever was about to go plummeting from my grasp, I think it's Andy helping me. I feel like it's his little self catching my clumsy and being there for me. It may be silly, but I've thought this for so long that it's hard to think differently now. It's become my way of remembering Andy as a mean big brother and then thanking him for being there for me.
Well, this morning, I had a soap situation in the shower. Scrub scrub scrub, lathering up to wash my face. The soap slipped from one hand to the other and then near fell from my hands to the tub floor, but I caught it.
I thought, "Right on, Andy. Thanks, Bro."
Then, I giggled, and I said, "Dude. Get out of the shower! Sheesh! Can't a sister get some privacy?"
I've had a really great morning and wanted to share my little ghost story.
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