i went to the beach with my brother this morning. he was driving, and by the time we got there i was already in a pissy mood as he didn't want to drive to the dunkin donuts drive-thru, which, admittedly, was in the opposite direction, when the way to the beach was south bound, which meant i had to actually walk across the street once we arrived in order to grab my iced coffee.

sigh.

 tracy. oh tracy.

he waved me down (he was in the water) when i was finally walking down the pier into the sand. we've been going to this same beach together since i was five years old and him, two.

the wave and innocent puppy-dog look on my little brother's face reminded me of him 17 years ago.

i sat back under the grey sky, calm wind, and looked around.

the horizon. the never ending, infinitely wide and vast blue body of salt water.

i go to the beach very often. mostly with earbuds in, tuning out the tourists and the old folks. or, i'll be scrolling on instagram looking at photos i 90% do not care about. i so rarely engage in what is around me.

but looking straight out, into the overcast ocean, i saw my brother.

diving and swimming and floating. alone. happy.

i didn't see a 19 year-old college freshman with a full-time job.

i saw the white-blond haired little boy with a speech impediment and a heart of gold, all the while giggling the most adorably immature laugh.

my brother and the sea. an image i won't soon forget. how small he was in proportion to the blue engulfing him. how fearless he is of it. how fearless he is in life. a travel-bug with a love of working with children. how patient and giving he is, like the sea in her calm tides.

opposed to me; quick to anger, raging at times. violent tides, also like the sea.

i decided to join my brother as the dark clouds rolled in. rain was coming. but i ran into the blue, looking black at this point, because, well, it's where we belong. and we belong there together.