I grew up with four brothers. We were not a “touchy feely” family and scattered to the four winds as soon as we reached adulthood. My oldest brother, almost nine years my senior, left home at seventeen to join the military. We spent very little time together after that.
Ken was the black sheep. He was often the brunt of family jokes. During his recent visit to Bacalar I learned quite a lot about him. I’ve always known that he was extremely intelligent. He is painfully smart, we’re talking a human walking encyclopedia smart. And I got a glimpse of how difficult that sort of brain has made his life.
Lisa and I took turns hanging out with him. She had far more patience. I did my best to practice being present and not letting our familial relationship get in the way.
It was clear that Ken was very glad to be spending time with me. It felt nice to have him see my life. We showed him around our little corner of the globe, ate good food (made by us and at local eateries) and went through photos and movies. We talked family history and shared memories. It was good.
I admit that I was nervous about him coming to visit. Not all my childhood memories of growing up with four brothers are good ones. None of us had a perfect childhood and adult sibling relationships can be complicated. He is eighty years old and I’m sorry it’s taken us this long.
DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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