GloMag GloMagDecember2018 - Page 264

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I remember my brother, when you and I were small, you smaller than me. I remember one rainy afternoon, me at lunch, at home, and it poured; the lane was filled with water, and our mother was worried, about how you’d be wet by the time you reached home. Did I carry an umbrella? Did I bring you home? I wish I did. I can’t remember now. 264