Brother

Two

I sit there on the couch, looking down at the papers I hold in my hands. By this point I've read them over three times, trying to make any sense of the context.

A brother. I have an older brother.

I've lived my whole life as an only child, and now, I get a mysterious letter, from someone claiming to be my brother.

So many questions. How? Why didn't my parents tell me? How did he know where I live? Why didn't he reach me sooner? Why is he reaching out to me now?

Sure lots of questions had been answered in his long letter, but still so many holes remained in the story.

At the end of his letter he left me a few ways to contact him if I wished. A phone number, two actually, and an address. His address. He was from England. Which explains why there were so many postage stamps on the letter. From the writing he explained that I too am from England. New information to me. Apparently he and I were born there, and my parents and myself moved to the states when I was three, and he, nine, stayed with my uncle.

It all seems so strange. Why would he stay there? Why would he have lived there and I never knew? Why wouldn't my parents tell me I was born in England? So many questions.

I could ask him. He reached out to me, to tell me about this side of myself I never knew. A whole life I have but never lived. All I have to do is contact him back. Let him know I read what he said. Let him know that his sister read his words.

Sister.

What a strange thing to say. I've never been a sister. And here, I have an older brother. Why wouldn't my parents have told me? Why wouldn't I have remembered? I mean, granted I was three, but you'd think having a brother is something you'd remember.

Who else knows? Does my entire family know, and no one ever told me...

I shake my head. That can't be true. They wouldn't all hold something like this from me. Would they?

My head is pounding with all this information. It all piles up, more questions weighing on the next.

I have to contact him. I have to have answers. I've gone too long without my brother, and now that I know of him, I can't go back to my old life. My world as I know it, will never be ordinary again.

I don't know where to begin. He gave me his address, but what do I write. I don't know how to start it. There's so many ways to take it. I could call him. He gave me a few numbers to have. Work and cell. I could text. But that's lame. Not after the 18 pages of words he wrote to me. My thoughts are spiraling as I think of a way to reach him. I have no time limit, but I want answers. I want to know him.

I pull my laptop out, and go to the dining table logging in. I'll start with a letter. A simple way to gather all my thoughts, and put them out in front of me. I can see them and edit as I go. This is a safe way to reach out, after all, it's what he did. But how to start...

"Dear Louis," I typed. Simple, no need to use his full name like when he wrote mine. Also, I don't know him middle name..he knew mine. I shake my head and continue typing.

"Words cannot explain what I feel. I, Ellie Tomlinson, have an older brother. I cannot thank you enough for reaching out to me, and gracing me with this life I never knew I had.."

I sit back and read over what I've written. Something about it is...off, not right. Not the right kind of writing to be using while taking to him. It's as if I'm writing into a diary, not to my older brother to whom I've never talked to before, on my end at least.

I hit the enter key on my computer and try again, leaving what I'd write above to compare to. This is going to take awhile...