My little brother, who is always less little than I remember, just moved to New York City. He is working grown-up hours and living in a grown-up apartment. His days are longer and his spaces are tighter and taller. It's a big life move for him.
But also: me. Selfishly, I can focus on how this monumental shift in his career and lifestyle affects me. Which is: deeply.
Because it is awesome.
I made the decision long ago to come to New York without my family. This mattered at the time. The move was mine, and it had to be mine alone. And it really, really was.
Maybe I've proven whatever I needed to prove, and found what it was I came here seeking. Or maybe I've just really missed them.
All I know is: my brother is near and it feels like home.