Today my Dad, brother, and I went to the Peabody Museum, an anthropological museum on the Harvard campus. My Dad and I were having a great day- we loved looking at all the skeletons and fragments of wars long past and lives long lost. But by the end of the day, I could see the dark storm clouds brewing in my brother, so I told my Dad that I had college prep-work to do this weekend and that we had to go home. I felt guilty being in my grandparents' hair, creating strong waves in their extremely still waters.
This week, it just feels like I can't get out of anyone's way, I can't wish myself invisible and silent like I have so many other times, and I am scared that my brother is slipping through my fingers.
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