I woke up this morning at the crack of dawn. Like a good fifth brother would, I decided that I would volunteer my time to help son number 4. My mission was to help him set up for a certain event that he would be hosting. It started at a time I believed to be ungodly on a summer Saturday morning. So with a cheery face I rolled out of my four time hand me down bed and headed to grab a pair of two time hand me down shorts. Then, I happily plopped down onto the triple handed down couch to put on the socks i bought last week. The 16 pack was already down to two pairs. The others had been lost to brothers.
I quickly grabbed a handed down shirt and jog up the steps, being careful to avoid eye contact with the shadow I now live in. Lining the steps, one will find the unspoken expectation of rows of medals, ribbons, trophies, and plaques. All of which have a war story that I watched with my own eyes. Whether it be the race brother number 2 lost a runner up medal because the anchor had a temper. Or the race which #4 first ran at state, even when brother 1 ran without a shoe; whatever the story, I know it. My only hope is to make the shadow that much bigger for son number 6. I only wish my strides brought me a step ahead of the thick shadow my very successful brothers built up for me to work to climb over. An expectation may hurt some, but I must thank the makers of mine, because it helped me to work hard, only to be seen.
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