Barber, Barber

Weekends are almost always busy and that is usually a good thing. Today, after church, Rachel and I went to visit our brother Tim. He's been back in his old house now for several weeks, back with the caretakers and residents who knew and loved him, and our parents, for many years. It's a beautiful thing.

Once in a great while either Rachel or I will take a picture along to jog old memories and help us find a connecting point with this aphasic brother of ours. Today I took a photograph of an illustration from an old children's book.

Barber, barber, shave a pig,

How many hairs will make a wig?

"Four and twenty, that's enough."

Give the poor barber a pinch of snuff.

The picture was one that Mom had often said Tim would stare at as a little boy. Today he glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, almost not wanting to take it all in at once... Rachel turned Dad's music on and soon this tender brother of ours was crying silently, sniffing here and there, trying to hold it together. Sometimes I feel bad when something I bring along evokes such strong emotion. I don't really want to make him cry, but it's good to know he feels deeply. There is a strange comfort in knowing we made a connection.

There were hugs at the door today when we said goodbye and when we pulled away in the car, he was looking out the window.
:0)