By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
I’m in the midst of doing something rather unique, and every time I mention it, I end up having to give the backstory. There’s always a long tale of how things came to be, and I can never quite tell if people are genuinely intrigued or if they secretly find the whole thing a bit ridiculous. Honestly, I’m not concerned with what others think. What matters is how my family and I feel, and on that point, we are completely settled.
At the time of this writing, I am playing host to my brother. But wait—Jennifer, you may be thinking—haven’t you written before about being an only child? Why yes, I have, dear reader, and I appreciate your paying attention. This brother is not related to me by blood. He lives in another country I’ve never visited, and he’s only been to mine once before this. Even so, my husband thinks of him as a brother too (technically a brother-in-law, but let’s not get bogged down in details).
Yes, I know—it sounds odd. And truthfully, perhaps it is. I was just as surprised by this development as anyone else. I certainly didn’t see it coming.
He and I met in the fascinating land of social media. A shared love for a particular college—and its sports—brought us into the same online groups. When I, the unabashed anglophile that I am, discovered he was from England and equally enthusiastic about this college, well, that sealed the deal. Instantly, he had more than enough cool points in my book.
Over time, we interacted often. I got to know his family, and he got to know mine. He sent English goodie packages and birthday gifts for my daughter. I sent him university merchandise he couldn’t get there. During the pandemic, he even live-streamed music to which my then-tiny daughter loved to dance.
After years of video calls and online chats, he finally arranged to come to America. My husband and I picked him up at the airport with a favorite southern soda waiting in a cooler. The drive home was plagued by a torrential downpour, but something surprising happened on that rain-soaked ride: a bond began to take root. Sure, we’d been talking for years, but meeting in person brought a comfort I hadn’t expected. It felt as though my husband and I had known him our entire lives. Upon meeting, it was clear—we had found a true kinsman.
Suddenly, I had a brother, and my husband did too. We laughed, teased, and swapped stories. Yes, we took him to university events, but we also did the most ordinary of things together. We spoiled him shamelessly with the most authentic and decadent southern foods, which delighted him to no end. We even brought him to our family Thanksgiving in the foothills of northern Alabama, where he fit right in. The only real difference was his accent—which, in that crowd full of accents, was by far the most distinctive of the bunch. Even our pets adored him. I’m not exaggerating when I say our little Miniature Pinscher would climb into his arms, hold his face between her paws, and sneak in what could only be described as a disconcertingly French kiss if given the chance. From then on, we jokingly called her his girlfriend.
On the night of Thanksgiving, having driven back from the northern part of the state, we sat outside by the firepit, laughing and talking while watching the first of many rivalry football games that weekend. Later, when people asked him about his favorite part of the trip, his answer surprised me. Despite the university rolling out the red carpet, despite the recognition and photos, despite all the excitement—one of his favorite moments was simply sitting at my home, belly full of turkey and cornbread dressing, laughing with his new family.
When he finally left, my husband and I teared up (and he may not want me to admit that, but it’s the truth). My daughter gave her new uncle a big hug, walked a few steps, and then ran back, eyes glistening, for another. He hugged us all just as tightly, and we promised that next time, we’d carve out even more space between sporting events and charity functions for pure, simple family time. Because that’s what we are now—family.
Yes, we became that way in a most unusual fashion. But now that the magic has happened, my family and I wouldn’t trade our new member for anything in the world.
Prose and Possibilities 