At a party to celebrate my sister’s 40th birthday I wore name tag that read: Ainsley’s Unsuccessful Brother. thought about this when read Talea Anderson’s “In My Brother’s Shadow” how sister and started in the same place ended up such disparately different places. Unlike Anderson can’t pinpoint divide even imagination. We had parents kinds of friends only separated by two years yet her 40s seemed have been born family world. reacted differently our father’s OCD house was tidy sterile hers chaos filth. To shared traumas she repressed drank mine. Even alcoholisms differed: Her addiction functional mine hindrance—hence unsuccess. marriage strong bore wonderful children. relationships could be measured hours sometimes weeks. She wrote textbooks manuals for Ford poems short stories exes. listened happy upbeat music watched reality TV while sunk into songs sadness TV did same. But now oddly we’re kind place text brought light. She’s divorced after nearly 20-year relationship. I’m divorced from an 8-month something. dating sculptor is am love. We’ve both gone back school 40s. through difficult rewarding bouts therapy. forgiven parents being boomers 80s missing childhoods. So maybe it’s not where you part matters end. Maybe that’s why families graveyard plots festive wakes. paths never diverged but rather we tended fields return with harvest feast end together began.