Not Forgotten

Tomorrow is my baby brother's
67th birthday. This will be the second
year that I failed to send him a birthday
card. Quaint, calling him my baby
brother but in fact that's what he once
was, a baby I tended to when I was a
teen. I could call him my kid brother.
I could call him the youngest of my
siblings. And I could call him and
congratulate him on his birthday, or
email him, because we lived quite a
geographic distance from one another
for many years. But he was always my
baby brother, there's that bond that
made our relationship different from
that of the others. Always ready with a
quip, a most jocular personality beyond
peer. Some baby. He stood taller and
much bulkier than me. But he was always
there, popping up when least expected
so we could renew those bonds. I will
not call him or write to him. I will not
give him my fond greeting for having
achieved another birthday. He no longer
has birthdays. Gone, but not forgotten.