Today my brother and I planned to go to the beach. The days have recently been warm, sunny, and just lovely for a few hours in the sand and waves. But we weren't able to go, because I was told while he was at school that I needed to stay to take care of our great-grandpa. I insisted to my little brother that he should ask some friends, even you, if they wanted to hit the beach with him. He didn't want to put in the effort to set something up with anyone else. That's my brother alright.
I'm entirely unsure how warm the water is. I intended to brave whatever temperature on account of the lovely weather. My brother probably wouldn't have noticed; he's always so warm, you know. I remember that the last time we went to the beach with you, at the coast up north from us, the water was pretty cold. Miraculously, you got in and got mostly used to it, something that's not very characteristic of you. Thinking back on it, you must have been trying so hard to enjoy yourself with us. Thanks for that.
Remember how you got tired of swimming and I had to carry you in my arms as I kicked through the water? Yeah, you probably remember that I admitted afterward how that exhausted me. I complained about how difficult it became with the rough, cold water and the voluptuous girl keeping me from using a stroke to swim. You felt so guilty after that, and you were frustrated that I didn't tell you at the time I was struggling. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner about it, but you were enjoying me ferrying you around so much and I didn't want to spoil that. Even though I did afterward. Anyway, that didn't put a damper on the rest of our trip. We still had lots of fun and ended the evening happily.
Remembering things like this, I feel less guilty about our separation. We did go out and make a few memories together. Not enough memories, but much more wonderful than nothing.
