I continued my scanning insanity today and decided that today was the last day I’d be scanning anything on this trip. As I’m inspecting the photos I scanned to ensure that I didn’t cut anything off, I notice one photo in particular where our cousin, Ed, and I are posing with a candle-lit birthday cake downstairs in our dining room. I can’t be any older than 3-4, which means Ed must be around 10-11. I notice Ed’s desk in the background, with piles of books, papers, and likely school assignments awaiting him. And in the back of his desk, I see a tiny pink photo frame with a little picture inside. I zoom in on the photo on my screen, and I realized that the photo is actually of me, just a month or so after I was born. The photo is right under a picture he taped to the wall of a baseball player I cannot identify.

This immediately made my eyes fill with tears. I had an image in my head of my big brother, studying his grammar or history or doing his math drills, taking quick breaks to glance over at his admired baseball player and also of his little sister, who continued to annoy him to death with her screaming and crying throughout the day and night. I don’t think there’s anyone else I know who has a brother with a bigger heart than his.