I know this picture without even

having it sitting in front of me:

 

My oldest brother, Kevin, is lying

on the floor beside me, half on the

soft pink, blue, and yellow plaid

blanket and half on the floor.

 

A hand which would one day be

used to create on a line in a factory

rests gently upon the crown of my head,

and on my soft dark hair.

 

The smile on his lips, the smile that

I sometimes miss, shines at me, but

I was too young to recognize it.  I

simply stared with wide brown eyes—

 

A baby's eyes don't see so clearly,

but I “saw” and felt by touch and I

knew so well that this stranger

touching my head was important.

 

Perhaps what I didn't see with my

eyes, I saw with my soul—my soul

which began in my mother's womb

and which continues to thrive within me.

 

Perhaps I saw a camaraderie in the

future, like the time when we went

to Warped Tour and it rained or maybe

when Kevin and his girlfriend went

 

with me to meet a boy I had met online;

regardless of what I was envisioning with

a baby's young eyes, I must have known

what would be—I can see that in this picture.