Miss You Bruv

It’s amazing how things that mean nothing to you back home can take on significance in an unfamiliar setting.

Back in the States something like a basketball court would just be a large slab of concrete, a place where I’m likely to embarrass myself. But here in Greece? It’s a cultural touchstone (another reminder that America’s cultural reach is everywhere), but more importantly a recurring symbol of my brother.

My younger brother – baby bruv – is a baller through and through. He lives and breathes basketball. If I’m being honest, I respect his commitment, but basketball doesn’t mean that much to me. However when I’m away from him – even if it’s just for a couple of weeks – a basketball court, that slab of concrete, becomes a nice  reminder of my little brother. His laugh, his “I’m playing dumb just to piss you off” behavior. It all comes rushing back when I see the basketball courts around here.

Of course I miss my whole family. But as I write this on a Sunday afternoon, it’s hard for me not to miss my youngest brother (sorry Mama Mello), who I’ve spent so many lazy Sundays with, playing games, grabbing ice cream at Crescent Ridge or just fucking around.

Miss you bruv. See ya soon.