To you my brother
My earliest memories of him have to be when I was leaving my grandfather’s house after an enjoyable summer. My aunt had brought back two racing cars from Dubai and both of us were given one each. There was the one with the detachable driver and the other with the fixed driver. I was probably four and he was three. I demanded that I take both cars with me back home much to my mothers and my aunt’s dismay. But he was rather surprisingly magnanimous about it. He was willing to part with it to avoid a scene in the house. Obviously my mother made me leave one behind but for some reason I can’t get it out of my head. Many a summers have passed. Many a memories have been saved. The explorations of the limited expanse around the house, the fish tank swimming lessons, the visits to the beach, the showers under the garden hose, the first cigarette, the first drink, the first “interesting” swimsuit calendar, the “interesting” magazine, encounters in the foriegn land and else. Years are rolling by...