Eric's head is bigger than the rest of his body. When he runs anywhere his head gets their first, and when he was younger the sheer weight of it would often drag him down. He is addicted to cheese but cut off because his body can't process the calcium and so it builds up in angry maroon stripes under his skin. He once had a bone growing out of his ear and he also once got so angry at his brother that he bit a hole in the middle of our living room wall. Not all the way through, mind you, but a hole nonetheless.
I was nearly 12 when Eric was born, and everywhere he went he was mistaken for my child. I was proud of him, of how cute he was, but I also didn't like boys and was never going to get married. He was sickly and I guarded him fiercely. I wonder most days if I raised them well.
Eric is my youngest brother, and he's 10 today. 10!
Happy Birthday, Elvis!
No comments:
Post a Comment