A month and two days, and two coincidences meant we got to speak. I'd planned on a bike ride, but just before got home, I decided I wanted to stay home instead. I only heard his call because I wasn't on that ride.
I didn't recognize the number. For a second I thought about doing what I always do with new numbers--ignore. But I answered, and was rewarded with five minutes of crying to my brother that we love him, we miss him, and we're so proud. So proud.
He's been sick since the fourteenth, and sicker still these last two days. His friends kept urging him to go see medical, but he wouldn't, he said, because then he'd miss his phone call. He did his workouts yesterday and today, sick, almost passing out, so he'd be able to call us. He said every time his division misses a call, he feels like he lets us down and I told him not at all, we know he's doing his best.
He says to send letters. I will.
Love you, little brother.