Brothers

So I had this photo shoot the other day of a family that consisted of mom and dad, two boys and one girl. It started out just like any other shoot, you know, position the bodies, reposition the lights, so on and so on. Midway through the shoot something magical happened. Not stardust, fairytale magical, but memory magical. The older brother decided to punch the younger one in the gut - sparking a cry of mercy and revenge. Some of you may read this and think - "now that's mean" or "what was that all about". Others will read this and think to themselves, as I did - "ah, memories".

I'm not sure how many of you have a brother(s), but for those of you who do, I'm hoping you can relate. Right after the not-so-inconspicuous shot to the gut, memories of my younger brother came flooding to me from years back. I remembered the exact same incident occurring between myself and my younger brother. I don't know what the heck we were talking about, but I ended up giving him a shot to his stomach. I remembered how sad he looked. I remembered how scared I was - I just knew he was going to run and tell my dad and I was in for it.


I then stopped to take a look at these two boys, seeing them in another way. I noticed how they were different. I took a look at the older boy and saw this confident, strong-willed, outgoing being that was practically always looking for attention. I then turned my attention to the younger boy. He was quiet and reserved. His self-confidence was lower and he appeared to be much different than his older sibling. I started to think about how my younger brother and I used to argue - how we would know each others buttons and how and when to push them. I remember times when I would run away from him when he was trying to hang out with me and my friends. I remember how I felt we were so different and, at times, probably not related at all.


After things calmed down from the effects of the punch, which took all of about 5 seconds, I noticed how they began to play together - doing pull-ups on my support beam, making faces at their sister... I had to smile. Remembering the mud pies we made together, the holes we dug to China, the tree forts we invested most of our time into, I felt my heart beat a little stronger. I realized how much my brother means to me. No matter what we've been through with each other - regardless of the pain we inflicted on each other - in spite of the millions of times we said we hated each other - he's my strongest ally, he's my best friend - he's always there for me - as I am for him.


~ take a breath

It's poetic to me that doing exactly what I love to do brings about such joyous and loving memories... life is indeed good!

P.S. This one's for you Tone.


- greg