I am with my siblings for the longest duration of time since we stopped farming together over a decade ago.  Eight whole days.  No longer just three of us, and no longer just one family, we are camped out at my sister’s home for the Thanksgiving holiday along with our parents and grandpa.  I am soaking up every minute of it.

It is not lost on me how special my brother and sister are.  We actually like each other.  This seems strange to some.  It garners comments from Mom and Dad’s friends who have observed us, which tells me that many are not so fortunate.  And I am fortunate over again, that in starting their own families, I have another brother and sister besides.

Among the many first article gifts so abundantly provided me, foremost is the bodily preservation of all these people around me.  I think that He knew I would need them.  All were ready for the moment when their brother said “I need help!”  This brother who doesn’t deserve it.  There are others too, in my greater adoptive family, who, to my shock, sprang into action with hands, supplies, and a welcome place to stay when I had none.  I give special thanks this year for this family I am blessed with.

As I prepare this in the early morning before the light of day one, two nephews are asleep.  They were already in bed when I arrived.  The oldest is three.  I have been looking forward to the day when he will see me and my brother, Austin, side by side.  To him, we are both Uncle Austin.  A few months ago, in preparation for the long trip to the East for his wedding, Austin’s name was repeated so much that it stuck for good.  And since I live near my nephew in the West and see him more frequently now, he recognizes me, but calls me Uncle Austin too.  Despite his parents’ coaching, Uncle Nathan would only stick for a minute.  I don’t think he knows there are two of us.

Of all the names I might be mistakenly given, my brother’s is one of the best, and so I did not mind.  I treated it as an honor to borrow until the opportunity arose for its return.