Wow. My brother Pedro is getting married.
This statement is incredible to me (literally) since somewhere in my subconscious I still think he’s eight years old. His true age is more like 29 – almost 30. (When in the world did that happen?)
In my defense, I’ve never met the incredibly fortunate woman he’s going to marry, so it’s not like I was eased into this news.
The exhilarating announcement of his impending nuptials filled me first with a benevolent sense of shock (“But, you’re a BABY!” is what passed through my head, but fortunately I didn’t say it out loud) and then with pure delight. He sounded so happy (and perhaps secretly pleased that he had made my jaw drop.)
When he was just a boy, he became the first (and possibly only) person I’ve ever seen win an argument against my father, who is a professional arguer. Not because Pedro was louder or more assertive but because he tends to make unequivocal sense. He has a sharp intellect, a goofy sense of humor and a big heart. (Which he’s given away! Oh. My. God.)
Pedro is a terrific writer. One Christmas, declaring he had no money, he wrote for each of us a priceless poem. He read every one out loud over dinner and reduced us all to tears, a trait he inherited from my father but then claimed as his own with that unique gentleness and appalling, exposing sense of insight.
For inexplicable and varied reasons every member of my family is convinced they are fluent in Italian. Pedro is the one who comes closest to this actually being true. He calls Luca fratello (brother) and Luca really sees him as one.
I believe Pedro is, of my entire family, the one who has spent the most time in school. My little brother is an academic, with a Masters Degree from the London School of Economics. Listening to him talk about politics or the environment renews your hope for the future of this world.
I know that Lorena is an extraordinary woman, because my brother wants to marry her. I’ve never met her, but I already love her like a sorella.
Welcome to the family, Lorena Zapata.