Two Brothers in a Different Place

They caught my eye because they must have been about the same ages as Trey and Timothy, or Timothy and Luke. I smiled as I watched them. I was missing my boys during our trip to Honduras. There they were--two other brothers: beautiful brown skin, black hair, completely given over to laughter about some shared joke. They were busy with what they were doing, but not at all troubled by their work. They stopped every now and then in their chatter and laughter and tossed something up in the air or to the other, still smiling and having a great time. We had come to a stop in traffic beside a trash dumpster along the side of the road to Zamarano in Honduras. They caught my eye. I watched them, mesmerized, as I realized suddenly that they were waist deep in the trash dumpster--looking for food or who knows what. Two brothers, in a different place than the brothers I am the mother of.