Alone

I have always been alone, it seems, in this shell.

I remember piano lessons, I’d ride the bus from my childhood home to our church, it took about half an hour, a mile long walk on either end.

My thoughts would be a prayer, an open invitation for him to listen in along with me, as I turned over in my mind, my flurry of thoughts.

And I supposed that I knew when it was he that responded to me, and the conversation was constant.

One day as I disembarked from the bus at Portage Avenue and Vimy Road, a thought came to mind. To explain salvation through Jesus Christ from Genesis to Revelation. I began to talk out loud, and the words flowed. The amazing thing to me was that as I spoke, I learned. The walk from Portage Avenue to Hamilton Boulevard was about a mile. It was a warm evening. When I arrived at home I hadn’t finished what I had to say, so I sat on our front steps, until the words concluded.

I was intrigued, and though I forget the exact words I remember going back sermon to draw from that sermon when speaking with others.

I forget just where that memory fits into the time line of my life.

Glenn, my big brother, was gone. He’d had a fight with my Dad, and my Dad told him to leave. Two hard heads butted, and Glenn was prepared. He had a place to go that night, and in the morning, after stopping at the bank, he was on a train for the West Coast. He never returned.

Years later I set out to find him, to know him. He was eager to be my big brother.

Recently all my big brothers have died. But I’m still a little brother…