Here we are.

The infamous Brother I so frequently refer to.

It was actually rather challenging to find a picture of us. He’s a boy. Boy’s aren’t concerned about capturing moments in pictures.

In fact, that raising of the hand he’s got going on … that’s him totally like, “hurry the f up, what the hell?”.

I, on the other hand, like to capture the moments … when I can get my people to cooperate. This is us about to depart on our 7 hour hike at Douglas Lake.

I was reflecting last night, as I was sweating my ass off yet again and caught the eye of brother from across the steaming rocks — yeah, I’m becoming a pro at this sweat lodge thing {must further expand on new found lodge love later} — how lucky I am to have such a great relationship with him.

Having someone whose been there for and with me literally since day one is so unique.

He knows things about me and understands aspects that no one else ever will.

They might attempt to understand and empathize, but they have not lived and experienced a childhood and years of growing up side by side.

I once read that sibling relationships are the most significant relationship we have throughout our lives.

They are our first friends. As children we learn how to share, play, love and give through our siblings.

Friendships can fade. Parents will die. Even marriages don’t always last now.

But our sisters and our brothers remain the one constant.

I know people look at Brother and I somewhat in a mystified way.

With our banter and comfortability, the way we support one another in our interests and activities. The ridiculous amount of time we spend together.

Just how much fun we have and how much we laugh with one another.

It was Brother who taught me how to read, how to ride a bike, how to {illegally, ahem} drive a car.

We tell each other everything. Literally.

I know I never have to worry about being judged or criticized. There is nothing I can’t not say.

But it’s not like we have the perfect relationship. Far from it, which is what makes it even better.

There’s probably at least 9 times a day where I yell at him to f off or the good ‘ol: fuck you!

But we never harbor any ill will or grudges. We can’t stay angry at one another. We genuinely just want to see the best for each other.

The summer after my junior year in high school, we had our annual trek to the Hamptons {before they were the Hamptons — much prefer the low keyness that it was) and Mountauk.

Brother and I had a great time.

Hanging at the beach, sailing, chillaxing, and some good runs — okay, so that was more like me trying to keep up and ask him to slow down. Truth be known, all of them ended in me walking.

One evening on our trek to the beach for sunset, my flip flop broke.

I hate going barefoot.

There was no hesitation as Brother took off his shoes and handed them to me.

I was and still am touched by this simple act of kindness. It’s such a symbolization of us.

I know I can always count on him.

Lucky moi.