And then there was Josh

Here's a picture of me looking at my little brother Josh. You can tell how I feel about him.

And here's one from the day after I met him:

What? Little brother? What about the whole four sisters thing, the complete set? And what's all this about "the day after I met him"?

Okay, I'll back up and tell the story.

Less than a year after I got the double-whammy letter from Dad, I still hadn't seen him, but I got another letter. This one was glowing:

Dear Cindy,
I've fallen in love with a woman named Dana and we're very happy-- we're going to have a baby together! We're moving to California.

WHAT?!?! I was stricken. Yes, I was happy he was gone for good. But I was supposed to be in the catbird seat, youngest of the four, apple of my daddy's eye. How could he do this? After all I'd been through, I was going to be dethroned, too?!? I was incensed. (I know, given the other letter, my reaction made no sense. But I was 14. Go figure.)

Well, as it happened, they did go to California. But no surprise, the relationship didn't work out. She left him while he was out looking for a dishwashing job one day, and went back to her old boyfriend. They got married, moved to Seattle, and Josh was born. Until he was 8, he never knew of any other father. We knew he was out there, and Dad even showed me an elementary school picture of him at one point, but that was pretty much the extent of it.

Until one day in 2001, when my sister Janet got an email out of the blue:

Hi. I'm your brother Josh, and I'm ready to meet you.

We were blown away, thrilled and fearful. Janet and I drove up to Virginia to meet him at camp. We had been campers there, too, long ago, so it was a good neutral place to meet.

I walked into the old familiar camp kitchen, saw a younger, male version of myself looking back at me, and loved him immediately. As it turns out, little brothers can be a gift. Especially if you meet them when they're mostly grown.