Happy Birthday Little Brother

I knew joy beyond measure fifty-three years ago today. About eight months before, I was excused from my fifth grade class because of a surprise visit to the principal's office from my mother. But it was good news. She had just been to the doctor's office to find out she was pregnant and couldn't wait until I got home to tell me. Later I learned that she had wanted another child for a long time and finally...it happened. We spent most of the time from then on talking about what to name the baby, and maternity clothes, and how her body was changing shape, and also preparing for the new arrival. Then in the wee small hours of August 6, 1955, I was awakened and whisked off to a neighbor's house to wait it out. When Daddy called in the early afternoon to say I had a little brother, nothing could contain my happiness! I went from door to door proclaiming the most wonderful news event ever! The next day, as I was too young to legally visit, Daddy sneaked me up what I think was the Presbyterian fire escape so I could see him snugly lying in the hospital bassinet. O happy day! When "the baby" - as Rob was called for many months - was brought home, I could at long last hold him, and sing to him and gaze upon him endlessly. I am so appreciative of the way my mother and daddy let me be a part of the wonderful event. I think it put an extra dab of glue in the whole bonding thing for me. Even now, if someone asks, "Are you and your brother close?" I tell them though we don't see each other that much, I have felt close, bonded from the very beginning.