A Dream

Today has been a lovely day. Church went better than most Sundays do. Brooks was not quite as screamy as he usually is. Nursery flew by. I taught the lesson in relief society and it all seemed to come together nicely. And then we came home and I took a nap. A rather long nap. Brooks laid beside me and we snoozed away, Max and Ruby in the background, lulling us. And then he woke up and I was in that middle land, not quite awake or asleep. I didn't realize I was dreaming until I woke up. And then it all flooded over me, the emotion, the memory. I was young, barely a teenager and my brother must have been Jeffrey's age. We were in the back of an RV traveling somewhere far away. My mom was driving and rounded a corner too quickly. I went toppling over, falling into my brother. The two of us laughed, a panicky, silly laugh. The kind of laugh that spills over when you climb to the top of the tallest incline and the rollercoaster begins it's descent. Or the kind that comes from the back of an RV when your mom rounds a corner. It all seemed so real. That laugh. The feeling between us. It was so familiar, so intimate. The easiness between us, the silent conversations, the knowing looks. I had forgotten how that felt. Forgotten the closeness we had as children. I don't remember ever riding in an RV with my brother. Dreams are funny that way. But it reminded me of him. Of this life full of memories we had together and the way all those memories felt. So familiar and sweet, untainted by anything that would come later. It's the way I would want to remember my brother. And maybe after a year of sadness and guilt, I can let myself do that now. I can let all those other feelings go and remember him this way.