That bittersweet pang...

The kind you feel in your heart.

My little girl is eating pizza out of the box. She is sick with the flu, her nose runny, her cheeks flushed. She coughs a little.

But she loves pizza.

Sitting there at the coffee table in front of the TV, in her frilly pink dress and red sweater, using her small hands to pick at the slice of chicken pepperoni extra cheese.

My heart skips another beat. Another pang.

A random thought

I was happy to see you tonight. Mum told me you were back in town for the night- and I rushed to finish some things in the office, to brave the traffic jams. You were home. At last.

My heart warmed when I saw you. We don't talk much about us, you and I- but we find common ground in many things. We laughed a lot tonight- I told you how much I wanted a pair of Jimmy Choos. 

You were always a pest as a child. I hated how you would bully me and get away with things, just because you were the baby of the household. You were also impossibly cute as a toddler, with a huge gap between your teeth and cheeks like apples.

I guess I don't care now.

It's been quiet since you moved away.

In case I didn't say it: I guess I love you, baby brother. You're 31 years old, but you'll always be my little baby brother.