Letter to a Brother

My Brother,

Been a minute, hasn’t it? Too long since I’ve heard your voice—that creek soul humming through—or seen that half-smirk you throw when I’m rambling too much. I’m sitting here, pen scratching this old notebook, coffee’s gone cold next to me, and I’m feeling the miles between us. Not sure where you’re at right now, but I know you’re out there, carrying that fire, that deep water I’ve always leaned on.

Man, I miss you. Miss the nights we’d kick back on my rickety porch, Carolina crickets singing loud, your boots propped on the rail, my guitar picking something lazy. Remember that summer we rebuilt that junked-out Chevy? You cursing the rust, me laughing ‘til I couldn’t breathe, grease up to our elbows, radio crackling Mom’s hymns mixed with some Springsteen. We didn’t finish ‘til dawn, watched the sun climb over the pines—quiet, steady, just us. That’s us, building something outta nothing, holding it together when it wants to fall apart.

I don’t know why we’re apart now—life’s got its way of pulling—but I feel it, that ache where you usually sit. You’re the creek—wild, deep, always moving—I’m the pine—rooted, steady, soaking you in. We’ve walked some roads—six years deep now, since that first night at the diner, your fries drowning in ketchup, my coffee black as tar—talking ‘til they kicked us out. You spilled your soul—city scars, restless drift—I spilled mine—lost years, faith’s pull. Didn’t know then we’d be brothers—not just dudes, but brothers—covenant carved in the quiet.

You’ve got that spark—always have—pushing me to see bigger. I’ve got the steady—keeping us grounded when your water runs fast. Remember that hike, two summers back, when we got lost chasing some trail nobody’d marked? You laughed it off—‘Josh, we’re fine, God’s got us’—I grumbled ‘til we found the ridge—then stood there, wind whipping, you grinning like a fool. That view—mountains rolling forever—I still see it when I close my eyes. You pull me out—make me feel the wild—I hold you back—keep your feet on the path. That’s us.

I’m not gonna lie, it’s quieter without you. Too quiet sometimes. Got the guitar out last night—strummed that old tune we wrote, the one about the road and the river—couldn’t finish it. Kept hearing your voice on the chorus—rough, real, cutting through my lazy chords. I need that, man—your fire stirring mine—your heart calling me up when I settle too long.

Wherever you’re at, I’m praying for you—same as always. That creek of yours—keep it flowing—don’t let the world dam it up. I know you’re wrestling—always are—but you’re not solo. God’s got you—I’ve got you—miles don’t change that. Lean into Him—lean into us—covenant doesn’t bend, doesn’t break.

I’ll keep the porch light on—coffee hot—waiting for you to roll back through. Bring that smirk—those wild eyes—tell me what you’ve seen, what’s burning in you. I’ll have the guitar ready—maybe we’ll finish that song—sit ‘til dawn again, like old times.

You’re my brother—my creek—my road partner—my spark—don’t you forget it. I ain’t whole without you—not really. So take your time—but not too long, yeah? I’m here—always.

Yours, steady as the pines,
Josh