Brotherly Love

Lord, New York. Honestly, if she never got cold, I’d be there still.

My brother treated me to Prosperity Dumplings (50 dumplings for $11.50, and they’re amazing!) and an old favorite, Waffles und Dinges. So many dinges!

When we parted, my brother gave me a red Moleskine notebook. “Don’t read it until I’m gone,” he warned. In a failed attempt to go to Paddy Reilly’s Music Bar‘s Wednesday Open Mic on a Tuesday, I ended up nursing a Guinness to a cover of the Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York”, and cracked the small book open.

Page after page of inspirational thoughts, brilliantly turned into quips and one-liners, all apropos of the life of a van dweller! I was laughing aloud as I read them, and I think the French tourists to my left wanted a copy.

Gems like this:

You can sleep when you’re dead.

You could probably do anything when you’re dead, though. I don’t know too much about it.

Then, after splitting my sides thoroughly open, the text took a serious turn:

Never question your ability as a sister or role model. … You have been a symbol of strength & perseverance in the face of adversity.

And I cried, in a bar in Manhattan. I cried in gratitude for my life. In gratitude for my amazing brother, for the chance at this journey, for the enormous gift of those brief moments when you get to see yourself through the eyes of another, and the view sings in your soul like a view of the Grand Canyon. Thank you, dear brother. The book has already helped me keep my head up when the road got rough. Love you.

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