This flower is no bigger than a nickel. It is a papery bloom called Immortelle… Everlasting. Small and understated in the summer around the flamboyant zinnias, cleomes and marigolds — now in the cold of winter, the harvested blooms have dried and… still understated, they whisper to me that some things last.
Love lasts. Memories of songs out of tune, bellowed between laughs last. The sound of his voice saying “I used to change your shitty diapers” lasts. He was 18 years older than I. It all lasts… for a time… in me. I hold these while I can… these papery blooms.
I salute the beauty of the man who was my oldest brother… for a time.