This is my brother and I.

See? We are young.

We look like saints,

wearing neck pillows

on our heads,

his red, mine blue.

Our hands are in

a prayer formation,

on our way to our next flight.

My mom, dad, sister, brother,

and I, on our way

back to Florida.

You can’t see the rest

of the family here,

but they are there.

My parents didn’t fight

back then.

I didn’t feel so far away

from them then.

My parents will change;

my sister will go to college.

They will call my brother and I into their room,

and tell us

 they are separating.

My brother will cry

and I will feel nothing.

That’s when I knew I was not like them.

We all will still love each other,

of course.

My mother will start her own business.

My father will fall for another.

My sister will become a nurse.

My brother will become king of our high school.

And I will be here.

               -Nicole Bevilacqua