Raising four boys is no easy task for any parent, and that included my dear parents. My mother was a homemaker so she endured most of the burden. My father was a craftsman and spent much of his time out of the home, working hard.
My two older brothers – who are twins but look nothing alike – are three years older than me. My younger brother came into our lives a lot later, seven years to be exact. Perhaps he was an “antibiotic baby.” I’ll never know for sure for I dare not ask my mom because I still enjoy chewing my food.
It is said that the older you get, the faster time flies by. To be honest, I don’t remember much of my little brother until he was about in middle school. We all grew up so quick and got rowdier as the years continued. There was constant chaos in a house full of boys. We did a lot of things that my parents weren’t proud of at times, but I think we’ve made for it and my little brother did it in a big way. He recently graduated from college with a Master’s degree in Criminal Justice. He has completed another chapter in his life and is about to embark on a new one. We wish him all the luck in the world as he pursues his lifelong dream of joining the law-enforcement community.
My mom has been through a lot in recent years and typically declines to engage in social activities. Her focus is strictly aimed at my sick father. But my brother’s graduation was indeed a special moment for her and there was no way she would miss seeing her youngest child walk across the stage and shake hands with the Dean. She sat at the edge of her chair with much anticipation, and as his name came across the speaker system, she gave a tiny smile – she was proud of her boy. We all were.