I am hating this process of buttoning up loose ends and getting my final goodbyes in. Today was a bit of respite. My brother had the day off of work and we decided to spend much of it together. We both enjoy hiking and biking and being outside so we decided to walk from his home onto trails near Bradbury Mountain State Park. We set out with Paul’s dog, Henry as Sophie had already done a few miles with her mama and was left behind. Please don’t tell her. She would be pissed.

The air changed yesterday. Instead of moist and humid air, it was cool, dry, and bright. The trails were quiet for the most part and we had the woods to ourselves. My brother and I can talk about anything. I can tell him the secrets in my heart and he his, without fear of judgement. We can also talk complete trash and regress to 13 year old potty humor with glee. Our spouses roll their eyes at our inevitable immaturity, marveling how we can possibly get so much enjoyment from our crude jokes.

Paul has always been my hero. He was the athletic, funny, handsome, lovable, older brother who actually wanted to spend time with his sister. That’s saying something because I was 6 years younger than him and admittedly not always a great deal of fun to be around. Paul leads with his heart. He always has. It has hurt him and helped him equally perhaps. It has enriched the lives of the people he has touched. It has caused him to suffer more than most.

I remember setting up a tea party complete with pansies from my mom’s front garden as a center piece. I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world to have my 14 year old brother join me and my most special baby dolls to eat saltines and sip water from our tea cups. He was such a good sport.

Paul’s accident changed him and our relationship but what has remained true is that he continues to be here for me. We might fight or hurt each other, but we both know, we are always each other’s best friends. He can’t really understand my need to move so far away but he has tried to support me regardless. He’s a Larson, so occasionally his support feels like not-so-subtle-guilt but I know in the end he is routing for me. He maybe can’t see it but he knows I think I need this.

I dream of getting him on a big plane and introducing him to my new world. I know he will love the little villages, the people, the food, and the beauty. I know confidently that even when we are far too old for it to be appropriate, we will still crack each other up at the dinner table. Here or in France, eyes will always roll when we are together.