The Youngest Member of the Cast

By the time H arrived,

the family story

already had characters,

inside jokes,

established alliances,

and an older brother

who had not requested

a smaller person

touching any of his things.

H entered anyway.

The youngest.

The bonus character

who quickly discovered

that being little

did not mean being quiet.

He and L fought

the way brothers do—

with great conviction,

unclear rules,

and disagreements

that probably began over something

neither of them remembers now.

One minute,

they were opponents.

The next,

they were on the same team

against everyone else.

Brothers are strange that way.

H loved video games,

boy things,

and the important childhood work

of testing exactly how annoyed

an older brother could become

before an adult entered the room.

I remember that version of him—

small,

funny,

determined,

always ready

to press another button

just to see what happened.

But children keep growing

even when we are not there to watch it.

Somewhere along the way,

H moved into new levels.

New interests.

New jokes.

New pieces of himself

I have not gotten to know yet.

I wish I knew more

about the person he is becoming.

But love does not disappear

just because it has missed

some of the middle.

It remembers where the story began

and keeps a place open

for everything that comes next.

So, H,

you may always be

the youngest member of the cast,

but that does not make you

a smaller part of the story.

You brought your own energy,

your own humor,

your own way of making sure

no family gathering became

too peaceful.

You were never merely

L’s little brother.

You were always yourself—

a whole new character,

entering the game

with your own controller.

I may have missed

a few of your newer levels,

but I have never stopped

rooting for the player.

One of four tributes to the people who made me an aunt.