why I love my brother

Before last weekend's trip, I emailed my brother and asked a couple of favors. He granted them--they didn't require much on his end, and they made a big difference for me. All told, I spent about 3 hours with the bro on Sunday. Sent another email message on Sunday night or Monday to say thanks, both for the favors and for his excellent (and heretofore mostly unacknowledged) big-brotherhood. He hasn't responded, which isn't surprising. He's kind of a quiet guy.

I just talked to my dad on the phone, as I do every Sunday. He mentioned that he saw my brother on Thursday and that he (my brother) said that I "seemed to be doing pretty well." I made a surprised, pleased sound, which encouraged Dad to continue. He said, "G- said that he, that, he hadn't expected you to seem so...content. That you've changed, but also that you seem like your old self, too. Only happier. He said it was good to see you like that."

We're not a snuggly bunch, all folded together like puppies either literally or figuratively. But I'm awfully glad he's my brother.