It was your birthday a few weeks ago, and I had no way of talking to you. I tried to figure out how, but you would have had to call me first. Besides now that I'm over 18 I'm no longer on the approved list. I thought that was funny. You'd think it would be the other way around.
I miss you. Do you remember the hours upon hours we spent playing the Farming Game when I was younger? To this day, I don't enjoy that game much unless its with you. Seven hours one time. We forgot to eat. We became so rich that each cow sticker had to be made worth two. The bank ran out of money, and we had to start a paper tab. I bet I had more fruit stickers than there are real orchards in Washington. Or the time, same game, we spent the whole day making colloidal silver and being imaginary farmers.
I miss your laugh. Oh! I miss your laugh. Isaac. Laughter. It was my favorite irony as a child. When you were named how did anyone anticipate that you would own one of the world's best laughs? I miss giggling at how your funniest laughs always came at the most inopportune times. You laugh when you're happy. You laugh when you're stressed, when you're frustrated, when you're mad. And I don't mean you kinda chuckle, I mean you nearly belly laugh. Most laughter is contagious, but yours is the most catching.
I miss your smile. Do you remember the grin on your face the day you bought me that new bike. Probably not, you couldn't see it, but I could. I remember how loved I felt. How many girls are lucky enough to have uncles who buy them brand new bikes? That night you rode with me to the end of the driveway because I wanted to keep riding, but I was afraid of the dark. I don't remember how many times we went back and forth, but I remember we laughed and talked, listened to the birds and soaked up the moonlight. That was a special, special memory.
"Uncle Ike! Again," I'd shriek as you lifted me to "climb" the walls and fly under the ceiling. I was real life spider-woman, and it was all because of Uncle Ike. After a while, you'd sit down at the table with me and make pinto bean giraffes with Elmer's glue and paper. Is this my first memory? I don't know. I can't keep track.
You've probably forgotten, but it was you who gave me that big stuffed St. Bernard dog who guards the Reading Cottage loft. I remember feeling sad because someone had given it to another one of the cousins, but I had been the one that wanted it. You figured this out, and soon after you were seen at Costco getting me my own. Ha! It was bigger than me. No joke!
I'm sorry that I'm not better at writing you letters. You'd think, as a writer, that I'd be better at keeping in touch. I had grand plans to write a hand written letter to someone every week this year. I wrote a few. I sent none. But, I want you to know that if I can be one half as generous as you are when I grow up, I will consider it a victory. I want to love people the way you do. And, just like you, I want refuse to allow the hardships of life to steal my laughter.
I saw someone today who reminded me of you. I don't know why, but they did. Maybe they had your eyes. Maybe it was something else. Today, I saw someone who reminded me of you. I wish they'd been you.
You've been a thought in my pocket a lot lately. Remember, I love you, I miss you, and I'll always, always be one of your #1 fans.
~ Tiarra Brooke
Your words are so special Brooke and you love and you too Isaac.
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