The Divorced Son: Part Twelve | Reflections
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1c6bRALa622lRrGxSYcpL0I7kUQfpUfvEAThsgmrgKeKYbclZKpKjT7NRgSIiJfKsMgCPohiC_L3RYqP-9E_jA4f6OpvshiKsZDTPCxsOrP9Bkm5sq5mZWuHGd2fI5aWJUGsBlJE5OHZFCELAQsivswTRyI4s42jE-B9FO4dC0lYQ_z3_syi0VEI-jQW/w400-h260/DS%2012.jpg)
My Brother. I remember pulling him around in the red wagon in Sherwood, Ohio. He was my greatest joy. I always wanted him to be my best friend. But that was not meant to be. I still love my brother deeply, but there is resentment now, on both sides. I remember our days in Ohio. We went everywhere together. I was always protective of him. I wanted him to be happy. I even remember one time we filled an empty 2-liter bottle with water and packed some bologna. We walked together down to the train yard. There was a small wooden overlook that we got up on. I don’t think anyone knew we went there. It was a special memory to me. All of the Ohio memories were good, until the Divorce. When the divorce happened, we split from our Dad and our Mom’s boyfriend stepped in quickly. I knew in my heart that things were not good. We stayed with Dad for awhile until we would move to Arizona. I was so confused and full of anger