Critique of Judgment

Siblings grow apart. It’s normal. Right?

I moved to the City, he stayed in New Jersey. I was in school for ten years, he fixes toilets. I never married, he spawned three kids.

“The youngest's recital was last week,” he reminds me at Christmas, disappointed I missed it.

I pretend I forgot. Later, I mention the article I recently published in a no-name journal.

He’s genuinely thrilled, wrapping me in a big bear hug. I struggle to return it.

On the drive home I ask myself:

Is this really who you want to be for the rest of your life?