Greg was the perfect big brother. He deserves sainthood for humoring me through the years. But one night I pushed him too far. I don't even remember the circumstances, I was just goofing around. He just picked me up, carried me to the elevator, put me in, pushed the button and sent me DOWN. and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
Now, I'd always been active and pretty assured of my strength(and apparently well-humored by my friends, most of whom were guys.) Greg was a deskbound computer geek (for which I was profoundly grateful--this was in the internet's embryonic days, and I was much happier pounding around on my mountain bike or slashing people with sabres than staring at a screen learning UNIX.) That day I realized that a) he's a lot bigger b)he's a lot heavier and c) despite his couch-potato status, he's stronger. That last one was a tough pill to swallow.
But it's OK. After a lifetime futilely tearing up my body to prove to no-one I'm worth the air I breathe, I recognize its OK to honor my limitations. And that in turn allows me to honor and be extremely grateful for (big, strong) generous friends like Cy and James.
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