One Summer Night

In memory of my brother

I like to remember you the summer I turned eight - at that Friday night dance in the park at Ivy Hill. I peeked from behind mom’s full skirt, only venturing out when the DJ spun the Bunny Hop.

You were twelve going on sixteen, black-haired and blue-eyed, growing into a young god, rockin’ and rollin’ with the prettiest girls. You winked at me, then turned toward the crowd and disappeared.

In the violet-blue sky, the stars revealed no hint of what the future held. Back then I believed I would always have my big brother.

But the truth is, I lost you long ago.