Riding in the car the other day, Kayla told me she is brothersick.
"Say that again, please -- I didn't hear you," I said.
"Brothersick," she said. "You know, like when you miss home you're homesick. Well, I miss my brother."
Ahhhh. I miss him too. Granger, my great big kid with long hairy legs and long hairy hair is away for the summer, whooping it up with his Dad in Southern Utah. It's an annual trek, and you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but nope. I'm not.
Sent him a care package the other day. Pro-Active face-washing stuff. A USB cord to hook up his camera to a computer to send me some photos. I'm hungry to see his face. And money -- yeah, he's always in need. But what kid isn't.
Both Kayla and Walter worship their big brother. Walter tries to dress like him, and he'd grow his hair long except he can't resist giving himself a trim every few weeks -- he hasn't had bangs in the middle of his forehead for months. Kayla has learned to draw cartoon characters from him, and makes them over and over as she doodles in her brothersickness.
Yeah, he'll be home in a month or so for school, and then the kids will find him very cool for a few days; he'll find them as pests who have been playing in the inner sanctum of his room (I can't watch 24x7, Grange, sorry!). But then it will be evening and he'll snuggle up in the big chair in the living room with one or the other next to him. Sometimes both.
That's the only known cure for brothersickness.