Tall Dark and Mean

I remember when I was a boy
thinking my big brother Digger
was just tall, dark, and mean.

He was nearly a giant in my memory,
cruel and uncaring to others.
Thankfully time and reality
made me understand the things
that were buried deep within.

He now stands
only a bit taller than me,
with big carpenter's hands,
graying hair,
and a scarred heart full of love.

One day Lois Mae and I came home
from the Air Force to visit,
and though he had more work to do,
and more burdens to bear
than any man should,
he paused his hectic life.

We sat and shared love
and tears and more than I ever knew
he could keep buried
deep in his amazing heart.

When we left to return
to our respective stations in life
I carried a new understanding
of the remarkable man he has become.

Years crept by as they often do,
and though we talked once in awhile,
we drifted upon the tides
and lost the closeness we had built.

It was seven years before once
again prodigal sons returned
to the home fires left burning.

Lois and I again returned
for military leave, this time
two years after September 11
canceled a planned trip.

In summer we sat beside
a roaring camp fire
recounting tales in
a mini family reunion.

The evening wound down,
and I saw Digger crying
without a sound.

The tears rolled down his ragged face,
and soon he came to hug me
and tell me how scared and proud
for me he was, knowing that
as our country called
I was there to stand tall,
despite the dangers that could have come.

I was reminded again
that there was so
much more to him than I knew
when I was but a child.

I remember when I was a boy
thinking my big brother Digger
was just tall, dark, and mean.