Word of Mouth

My mom often tells me of the things my brother says about me when I’m not around.

She tells me he thinks I’m brilliant and powerful.

He says I have wonderful things inside of me and that I radiate like a nuclear power plant.

He speaks of me like I am his favorite person.

When he sits across the table from me, however, he says nothing.

I return the silence to him, but I tell my mother that he is my best friend.

He holds the world between his pointer finger and thumb, sent it spinning on its axis.

He makes trees grow wherever he walks, leaving everyone breathing a little bit easier.

I tell her that he is my favorite person.

I hope that she tells him I say so.