The Kids Are Alright
My brother and I were raised by my dad. A single father, who would pick us up from daycare during his lunch break and watch Barney until we passed out. After which he’d gently secure us in our carseats and take us to the Air Force base to “play” while he tinkered with F-16s. We were a family of three, but last weekend my brother got married. Enticed by the gentle breeze of the Florida Gulf and an enchanting sunset, we took one last humorous walk by the water before he said, “I do” and added a fourth to our trio.