Diligo Fratrem
I love my brother. The phone rang this afternoon just as I settled down for the last third of Lee Child's latest Jack Reacher novel. The pace was quickening, the bad guys were dropping like flies, and the phone was ringing. I was all full of grrr and leave me alone until caller id told me that Brother was there. I knew before I said "Hello!" that he and his girls were driving from their new home at the end of the Red Line to their synagogue much closer to town. Talking to me on their way to Kol Nidre was a good use of time. It was good for my soul, as well. There aren't a lot of people who want to hear me talk about my mother. I write about it here because I know that you can click away if you find me annoying or self-indulgent or too morose for where you want to be right now. There's no harm and no foul; I don't know and you don't have to worry about offending me. I get it off my chest, and I feel better. Healing through blogging; it's the...