It was early

in the morning when it happened. A little boy and his dad had just left

the lobby of the hotel with their complimentary breakfasts. In his hands

the dad held two coffees, muffins, a plate of fresh fruits, and milk for

his son's cereal. Obviously, mom was sleeping in.

The little

boy, about three years old, carried very carefully a bowl of Froot Loops.

As they rounded the corner to the elevator, the little boy bumped into

the wall ­ spilling two green Froot Loops onto the floor. He looked

down at them as they rolled around and came to rest at his bare feet.

When they did, he looked up at his dad and said, "Uh-oh."

His dad answered,

"Don't worry, son; you still have a whole bowl full." Both kept

walking to the elevator, where his dad stopped to push the button. The

little boy, still looking back - worrying about the two little green Froot

Loops he had dropped and left behind bumped into his dad and spilt the

entire bowl onto the floor.

I met some

people at our family reunion last month. People I hadn't seen since I

was a little boy myself. Thou their outward appearance had changed somewhat,

they were the same on the inside the same as I remembered them so many

years ago.

The Sister

was at the reunion. The same sister that got mad when we pulled her hair

and ran to mom when we hid her Barbie dolls. She's now a marine biologist.

She told me about the 500 acres of trees that she will plant this year,

turning farm land into a new forest and wildlife habitat. A correct mixture

of trees must be planted in order to bring in wildlife, and that's her

job. An all-pine forest would mean a forest barren of life.

The Sister

gave us a gift of two walking sticks with semi-precious gems set into

them. The sticks she made, and both were twisted by vines from top to

bottom. The Sister told us the reason one walking stick was smooth was

that it did not resist the vine as it grew. The other walking stick was

knotted and rough because it resisted and had a hard time growing. Looking

back over my youth, I feel like that second walking stick.

Big Brother

James was at the reunion, the big brother that showed me how to shave

the first time with short, quick, jerky, motions. Big Brother James, the

brother who was a terror on the high school football field for five years

and a three-time state wrestling champion. He was there with his wife,

13 year-old daughter and a new baby girl.

Big Brother

James talked about his plans for a new land development with side walks,

nature trails and elevated cart paths. It will keep him busy for many

years to come so will that teenage daughter. The development is truly

visionary and beautify, but not nearly as much as that new baby girl.

Twin Brother

Mark was also at the reunion, the twin brother whom I shared a bedroom

and many a Batman comic book with for the first 15 years of life. The

brother whom I seemed to always be in a fight with, the brother who always

got pick last at the games we played. But in the game of life, it seems

that Twin Brother Mark has finished first. Last April, he retired after

20 years of serving his country as an Air Force pilot. With a wife, an

eight year-old son and a one-year-old baby boy, Twin Brother Mark also

retired a very rich man.

Older Brother

Richard and Mom couldn't make the family reunion this year. They were

having a reunion of their own. They both were in another place, waiting

on all of us to join them. Looking around at the family you could see

a part of them in all of our faces.

The little

boy was so busy looking back at what he had lost; he didn't see that what

he held in his hands was so much more. Like that little boy, I've concentrated

on looking back at something that I too have lost: my childhood and the

time growing up with my brothers and sister. So much so I haven't seen

what I'm holding in my hands: The time I now can spend with them and their

families as grown adults.

[Rick Ryckeley

is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services.

He can be reached at [email protected].]