BIg weel
Garfeild lunch BoX
A BaBy Brothur (not a gurl!)
She ran her fingers over the letters, trying to picture her older brother as a short four-year old, clutching a fat, red crayon in his chubby hands. Her eyes crinkled at the last line.
“Imagine his disappointment when I was born just two months later,” she said with a teary laugh.
The roomful of mourners followed suit.
“I wrote my own birthday wish list this year,” she said. “But there’s only one thing that I want.”
She kissed his pallid forehead and laid the note on his chest.
2015
My brother
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