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Leaving Home MAG
Lifewas comfortable - cozy at worst -
I was 16 and he was leaving first.
Inever saw it coming,
'Til one day he was gone.
I told myself different'til
It finally hit me I was wrong.
I kept saying to myself,
"Hewon't be gone long."
He came back once for the rest of histhings.
He said good-bye as I watched him leave.
I never wanted him togo
Though I could never tell him so.
I had to play it off - act like Iwas glad,
Though we both knew I wasn't -
It was that understanding wehad.
For, deep inside, we were both very sad.
There was nothing leftfor me to do.
I'd think of Christmas and Thanksgiving too.
He'd be home tovisit now and then.
But he would never live there again.
Things sincehaven't been the same.
He's not there to play the normal games.
I love himmore than he will ever know.
There's no real way for me to show.
Itfinally struck me as I thought one day:
He really had to leave and go his ownway.
Then, as I sat there and thought some more -
I realized that soon, I'dwalk out that door.
I wouldn't return to live and to stay,
But I wouldcome back to visit on holidays.
Just like he left, I would too.
He openedmy eyes to a new point of view.
He showed me exactly what would come soon-
A way of life - breaking out of the cocoon.
A whole new world - a life todiscover.
I learned so much from my older brother.