I woke up early and threw some OVERSIZED pullover over my head, shoved some slides on my feet, and grabbed my camera as I walked out the back door. The cows across the field were loud and busy already and the wind was screeching against the half opened windows. I miss the sound more than you can imagine.
I remember coming to the conclusion that a pullover was NOT gonna cut it even with a pair of scissors, so I scurried back inside to add more layers. Chase met me at the door.
I remember our attempt at negotiating whether or not it was too cold for him to go out barefoot, with a t-shirt and holy jeans. "It's okay, Chlo. I'm gonna wear my gloves." 'Cuz that's convincing. But we all know that kind of attire won't cut it for a Fall in Ohio even with a chainsaw. So I shoved him into jeans without holes, and we added a jacket and some shoes. Problem solved.
For a while, I stood my ground. I didn't give in to the pleads or the pouting. Not even the puppy lip could throw me off. "Chase, I can't let you take your shoes off or Momma would have a fit." That's usually how it goes around there... The boys are all about no shoes, no shirt, no problem. No matter the circumstances. But then it hit me.
Chase is my brother.
I don't see him often.
How do I want him to remember this day?
With his shoes on or off?
..........................Stupid logic.
So that's pretty much where my memory ends. But hey, it was on a good note! A happy sing-songy-note that most people don't reach without lungs of steel. If that makes sense.
