A Dish to Remember My Brother on Christmas


My little brother Forrester and I were both born around Christmas almost exactly 12 years apart. Capricorn babies. When I tell people that, they automatically assume that because we weren’t close in age, we weren’t close. Maybe I wasn’t his parent, but I changed my fair share of diapers, picked him up from daycare every day, and read Goodnight Moon to him so many times that now, 30 years later, I still know most of that book by heart. I cheered him on during his first milestones and prepared his meals when my parents worked late. Even when I moved out of the house, I’d still pick him up from school and catch the occasional Little League game, or take him to the movies.

As we got older, we shared similar interests: music, art, travel, tattoos, the Lakers. We were always in contact, texting back and forth about a game, or a new album or song, or shows we were excited about. In many ways he was my mini-me. He was always there to pick me up from the airport when I came into town. We’d hang out, grab burritos, and go sit on the beach at the Carlsbad Inn.

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