Andreas turns 32 today. I wish more people read this and could all throw in an Andreas story. I sat for a long while to think of a story and thought of tons, but all of them are about Andreas and me, and it seemed wrong to share that story. But the truth is, that's all I got. For some reason, the 7 years between us has become less and less through time, and his friendship means that most of the stories are about he and I acting stupid. Like trying to get a toy parrot in Walgreens that repeats what you say to say something naughty. Like both of us giving each other "New Kids on the Block" and other boy band paraphernalia. Like the time that he was talking to me while we stood in line in a busy mens room and I told him that first of all, I didn't know who he was and second, could he stop talking to me. Andreas retaliated in kind at a later date, and all I can say is it involved pictures and his own visit to a restroom.
We've been through our share, he and I. So when he turns 32, I guess I do, too, in a way. We've seen each other through times that a lot of people probably never see, never could imagine, and wouldn't wish on anyone. But I think Dre would ask you to see God in all of it - see this hand guiding him. A Love that never left his side. He's a great Christian man. Happy Birthday, brother.
I remember Andreas memorizing every football team and its helmet from his bedsheets and seeming to know way too many stats about professional football. Especially since we didn't even really watch much, unless we were subject to one of Dad's tests on self control where he would watch until something huge was happening in the game and then turn off the TV just before you could find out the results. Andreas was also curiously gifted with the frisbee - "pick a target, I'll hit it", and he would. Ah yes, and the revving of the Andreas engine as he prepared himself for the fifteenth run across the dining room which ended in a head-smash into the sliding doors. I wonder what kind of high that was, but it must have been worth doing over and over...until he tried it with the wall in the red-rug-room and ended up with his head stuck between the 2x4's. Energy, energy...
ReplyDeleteI remember when Mom picked him up from the bassinet and he was so sick he just hung in her arms. It was frightening. And I remember going to the hospital to see him (he had double pnuemonia) and the overwhelming relief when he were up and smiling in her arms. Smiling and happy.
Andreas, with the beautiful, deep, sweet eyes that I see in my Brook, and the drive that I see in my Connor (well, ok, it might be from Dad, but you get what I mean). Happy, funny one-liners, and heart-melting singing voice, with a depth beyond words. There's my Dre. I'm sorry to say I don't have much else - no road trip stories, or inside jokes, just a tender place in my heart for my little sweetie-pie brother.
Love you, Dre! Happy happy birthday!