Brother

Time

fades some memories

like photos left out

in the sun

it leaves coffee stains

on magazines

and crumbs under couches

Yet some memories

are left untouched.

As children,

My brother and I 

hid under the dinner table

talking about Santa.

I still feel the roughness

of the wood underneath

as I traced patterns 

with my finger.

We'd lay on our backs

put our feet against the top

and push up to make it float.

Well,

he did.

My tiny legs strained to touch

little feet pointed

convinced I was helping.

My brother.

always bigger.

faster.

stronger.

I remember that

more than most birthdays.

more than his phone number.

more than his address.

more than the last time we spoke.

I wonder if he'd float a table with me this Christmas...