A Parallel Universe

Two years have passed since my last blog post. Good intentions to write every day turned into broken promises as soon as I said “yes!” to a new position in a new state. Excuses piled up as bags were packed, moving trucks were loaded and a home was put on the market – then finally sold.

Why write now? Nostalgia.

Daydreaming about “what if?” – as I watch the new season of Casual, a show about Valerie, a divorced single mother living with her brother Alex. Watching the brother-sister duo has me thinking about my brother.

When we were in high school, he dreamed about going to school for sports medicine. I wanted to be a screenwriter. Today, he’s living in a trailer, with schizophrenia, alone. I’m living in Austin, TX, working in global content marketing.

We were really close – even when I hated him for being more popular, cuter and more athletic. He was the soft-spoken, kind one. I was the loud, bold one. He was the one who imagined getting married and having kids. I was the one who imagined faraway places and a high-rising career.

Like all teens, we thought our parents were dull, clueless. So, we sneaked out (or out back) to drink “borrowed” liquor, cruised around the McDonald’s parking lot with our separate friends or watched Bad Boys on the family TV (after our little sisters went to bed of course) for the hundredth time.

Then time stopped. 16 years ago.

The disease took over, leaving behind someone I no longer knew. I see glimpses on good days – a sly smile, a soft word. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen that smiling face.

So, on bad days like today, I like to imagine a parallel universe.

Adam – you’re strong and active, working as a physical therapist in a local hospital or doctor’s office. You’re married with two children, one girl and one boy. Your daughter is a little like me (mischievous) but a lot like you. She is calm, yet bold – fierce yet sweet. Your son – he’s only three but loves following her around like you used to follow me. And our nephew is his best friend, inseparable. When I come home to visit, your kids – they give the best hugs!

Instead of sitting on mom and dad’s old plaid couch talking about high school bullies or girlfriend/boyfriend disappointments, we talk on the phone about work, family and old memories. I can hear your voice. I can hear your laugh.

I like to imagine you – happy – in this parallel universe. Love you. Miss you … every day.