The Minutes We Have

prologue

one month later 

I watched the ever-gentle snow. 

It had been snowing from the moment I opened my eyes and glanced beyond my window. Giant, iridescent snowflakes drifted down from the heavens, seemingly soft enough to touch but they would dissolve the moment warmth greeted them, as like the sensation of a butterfly kiss. 

All that I could see was thousands of snowflakes dancing with each other, not just glittering in white but a fleeting display of luminescent colors only when the light caught them. My eyes followed their patterns while they fell, as they believed they could fly for an eternity. 

I smiled softly as I noticed some of the snowflakes who refused to be tame. They simply played on their descent. Those of which seemed to laugh, fluttering and dancing without a care in the world until they were breathless upon landing. As heaven would meet earth in an unforeseen kiss.

If I held my breath long enough, I swore I could hear gentle whispers amongst the quietude. As if the snow comforted the earth in a soft lullaby that was told in the way spring would arrive. It was always so peaceful when it snowed, and I loved how the silence held my tender heart.

Tree limbs coated with white stood utterly steadfast in the mirage of swaying snow. Their trunks were darkened from the kiss of melting snowflakes, which led me to believe the trees had hearts deep within their trunks, and that is how they survived the long slumber through winter. 

I watched, mesmerized by the beauty of it all, from my bedroom window as I tried not to fog the glass with my breath. A soft grey blanket was wrapped around my shoulders, gently grasped by my fingers, and I hadn't moved for a long while because there was no haste.

It was Christmas Break, and I was enjoying the moments of gentle solitude. I always knew when my brothers woke because there was usually laughter or the gentle murmur of conversation from downstairs; and that is when I would abandon my solitude to join them. 

Ever since we had settled into our new home, one that truly felt like home, I have spent a fair amount of time self-reflecting during the early morning hours. Sometimes, I found myself in utter disbelief that any of this was true. How had we become who we are?

If there was one thing I had learned over the past few months, it was that change was beautiful and one must take the time to admire it. From watching the seasons change, and the response of every living being on the earth, to the concept of people living through tragedy and pain. 

All we can do in an ever-changing world is grow. 

When I was little, I could remember getting every single one of my sunflower dresses dirty because I would help my Mom plant her garden. She loved plants, and every spring, she couldn't wait to start growing. She was so gentle with the tiny sprouts, nurturing them as they needed, until they grew strong enough to take care of themselves. 

I hadn't realized that Mom's simple passion, was truly the secret to surviving in a world that's environment is constantly changing. Every season is different, bordering its own wrath upon fragile beings, and the storm can seemingly rage forever. It wasn't until I had lost my Mom in a horrible tragedy, did I realize it was time to take care of myself. 

Parents can teach you everything they know, except how to live without them. 

Our world had shattered into a million pieces when we lost our parents a few years ago. We were still kids in a sense, left alone in a world we didn't truly understand, and we grew up overnight in order to survive. Somehow, the five of us remained in the same house, and we tried our best to keep going despite the circumstances. 

Even though we had fought, and we had hurt each other, and refused to let our walls down. I could still remember the fistfights that would happen, and never knowing exactly where all of my brothers were. They shut me out, and I did the same.

It was the only thing we knew. 

Until one day, we chose to start growing together. 

From an empty house with distant hearts and slamming doors, we became a family that was healing with equable understanding for each other as deep as roots may grow. Despite the storm, we unfurled our limbs and sprouted with the help of each other's strength. 

Although there is always the struggle of growth, where letting go is a prerequisite to moving on, and it is not because we don't love those of past moments. It is because the only moment we truly have is now, and we cannot keep bleeding from the broken pieces we refuse to handle gently. 

Sometimes, those pieces can be set down. For they grow heavy, and amongst new pieces, we can create a mosaic of memories that will always remain close to our hearts. Some would believe that we lose pieces of ourselves until we are different than before; and it is true.

Not even we are the same, for every day we shall grow. 

That being said, I can hardly recognize my brothers now. Each of us had formed our defense mechanisms and responded to the pain in different ways, which resulted in a growing chasm between us. Until we finally let each other in, and we braved the fear of change, that which allowed us to understand what family truly meant. 

It wasn't just a word or the blood in our translucent veins.  

When I stumbled, their strength held me, and when they stumbled, I lent them my strength; because that's what family does. No matter what, we're there for each other. 

My oldest brother, Mikeal, no longer buries himself with work to keep his mind occupied. He works from home now, and he spends time with us. Once his eyes had held the greatest grief, and the longest battle against becoming his father, but now he smiled again. He laughed and joked, it made me happy for him.

My second oldest brother, Ezra, has surprised me the most. He had closed all doors when we lost our parents, and he didn't know how to express himself beyond ruptures of anger. His eyes had once been dark and ever-present with a storm, but now dark horizons had lightened. He was learning to express emotions, and it didn't result in fights. 

My younger brothers, Roman and Julian, were twins; and I was still just as protective of them. Even when Roman had been illegally street fighting because he didn't know how else to handle the pain, besides causing it. Even when Julian had stolen Finley from me during the nights, and his night terrors had finally eased, but I couldn't stay angry at their cute faces in the morning.

Then, there was Finley. My sweet guardian angel that I had once saved on the streets, and then he had saved me. If anyone were to tell me he was just a dog, I would disagree to every extent. 

Finley had come crashing into our lives at the most unexpected time, and his silly grin had taught us how to laugh again, how to love once more after the pain. He brought happiness back into our lives, and it helped me leave the grey world I had lived in. 

Truth was, we had only been surviving in the shadow of a tragedy. We had remained in a city that felt empty to us because it was the only familiar thing we knew. We had let the secrets and defensive lies almost cause another tragedy. But now, we had moved on. 

And it was time for us to live. 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Hi! We meet again!

How's everyone doing? How was that for a prologue?

I hope you're as excited as I am for this sequel because I built this book directly from real-life inspired events, people, and places. I'm honestly just writing an autobiography. And since I finished the last book, I have so many new stories to tell you about us! 

Real fact: As I wrote this, it is snowing exactly how I described it in the beginning. It's so peaceful, and that much can be said for my brothers as well. Ever since the last book, we've truly grown just as much as our fictional selves. Isn't that neat?