When I remember you, Tim,
it's through the filter of your brother's stories--
my favorite memories of you
have become the stories he told me.
You policing the sugar he put on his cereal
while he taunted you, tipping just a bit more off the spoon;
your careful, complete assembly of model airplanes
while his, half-finished, were set on fire and thrown off the dock.
The rivalry and love that can probably only be understood
by two brothers born eighteen months apart.