As I approach, I see my brother sitting at my favorite table in the garden, the one that’s closest to the large oak tree off to the side. He’s on his phone, clearly a thing I’d never noticed much from my dad, but a necessary part of running things. That garden had been cleaned for the winter except for the few winter plants that had hung on. Maybe next year will be better, I muse, though maybe next year they won’t even plant. It’s not mine any more.
Robbie looks up and smiles when he sees me. I take a seat at the table across from him, thankful that he doesn’t stand or bow, happy that he’s, for this moment, just my brother.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asks me, placing his phone on the table.
“I was just thinking about how you’re actually my big brother,” I say and a soft
