TWO BROTHERS by Matthew H. There once were two brothers—a man of Thought and a man of Action. One pondered Meaning; the other, a junkie for Experience. The older of the two would spend long days writing, contemplating philosophies, and reading. He was thin and frail and was always chewing gum too frequently, rambling incessantly to any who would listen, and had a habit, a tick, of smoothing the hairs on his arms—keeping order in any small way he could. He was stubborn to a fault. He had never been outside of his country and married the first women he fell in love with. The younger of the two was a strapping lad, handsome and strong, taking the world by storm with dashingly good looks and a hunger for the world he lived in. He had a habit, a tick, of laughing too loudly at his own jokes and flirting ad nauseam. Always drinking into the night and making love to an abundance of women around the globe, he could never settle down in one city for more than a year if you paid him. He had been to Shanghai, Rome, Peru, San Francisco, Sweden, and Australia. The older brother spent so much time writing novels and reading textbooks that he effectively shunned much of his extended family and friends. Only his wife and children saw him on a regular basis. He wanted to be remembered for something. He wanted to be talked about for decades to come. He had tasted the world according to its intellect and language. The younger brother never married. Without such commitments he could hold a series of odd and exciting jobs—some well-paid, some not. He swam in every ocean on the planet, explored mountains in India, and saw performers of all sorts on streets and clubs and at festivals. He had tasted the world according to its cultures and natural beauty. The two brothers would phone or write when they could. Decades passed and they became old men. One year, when the family was all together in one town for Christmas, the two old men became sick, catching that winter’s particularly terrible virus. They younger members of the family were fine, their bodies repelling the virus in no time. For the two brothers however, the virus tore them apart. On New Year’s Eve that year, the two old brothers found themselves next to each other in two hospital beds. Their diagnoses were grim. The two were in their eighties, and the different stresses and demands they had put on themselves throughout the years had disabled their bodies and minds from fighting any longer. In hours they would both be gone. They had accomplished much in their respective ways. In the hospital they began talking about their legacies; about the things they did and didn’t do, touting which life was better spent. Thankfully, they were both wise enough to relent for a time to hear the other one explain their case. The older brother couldn’t believe all the places his younger brother had been too—sights and sounds he would never see. He felt foolish for not balancing the time he had on this earth between thoughts and actions, instead opting to leave behind pieces of himself to a world he never really saw. He limited himself to be only a Man of Thoughts. The younger brother couldn’t believe all the ideas his older brother had fathomed and all the tomes of written words he would leave behind. He felt foolish for never finding a love, starting a family, or leaving behind anything to let people know he existed. He limited himself to be only a Man of Actions. “I guess were just two old fools,” the younger brother said. “No,” said the older brother. “We were just so busy trying not to miss anything that we missed everything.” MH Thanks for reading.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Aug 2013 12:38:44 +0000
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