Saint Patrick

I only have one follower on this blog. I used to have two. Now one. I don't know why. I guess she reads this. I don't know if anyone else does. However, I have to post this and see where it goes.
I am not referring to the dude who drove snakes out of Ireland or some such thing. I'm talking about my very own brother. Not the kid I fought with growing up, but the grown-up who forgave me things kids shouldn't. The guy who put up with a lot of things most men wouldn't. The guy who gives us himself over and over and over .... taking on responsibility that rightfully should be shared. It's not that others aren't willing ... but he has proximity, and it's just so easy to let it all rest on him.
I'm talking about the guy who so willingly shares his home, his time, and goes out of his way - asking nothing in return - to show someone a wonderful time.
I'm not just saying all this because he treats me so nicely. It's because he does it so cheerfully. Because he treats me like me like I have some sense - even when I don't act like it. Because he doesn't criticize or condemn me, even when I know I've made a lifetime of foolish or silly choices.
Just because he loves me when I'm not loveable.
I just want the world (or at least my little corner of it) to know I love my brother.