Ricky, Rob and I at Sawyer Point, Cincinnati, Ohio.

The sun hung high and steady with a stubborn permanence and burned a hole in the sky as if a smoldering cigarette had been pressed to ash there moments before; the contrast of the blue and the gold and the green of the ground seemed cartoonish, ideal, and around four in the afternoon we stepped outside into the stifling heat of the mid-east. It wasn't the same deck of the summers of our past, of course- Ricky had only been to the new house once before, and for only a couple of days- but how very familiar this was. Humidity changes everything when it reigns at such an extreme. The iconic water swells within the air, stands between you and the world with such an exhausting density that it slows your movements to a sweet, lazy ballet, and reminds you that you are in the south, or at least close to it. One can't afford to hold on to anything other than what is actually there when in such oppressive heat; there is no energy for pretenses. We have grown; Ricky is six feet tall and speaks in a booming, low voice, and I am millions of miles away from what I once was, yet here we are, children again, in the same thick, Cincinnati heat that we played in years ago. Our attempts to catch the Frisbee we are tossing about blindly grow more and more careless and slow. Our attention begins to wane even more rapidly now; we are barely aware of the other, completely indifferent yet seamlessly comfortable in each other's presence. My brothers and I grew up together and possess the understanding and the comfort that consequently follows. Regardless of the differences between us, regardless of where we go and what we strive for and what we eventually become, we will always share this.

In an hour I have an appointment with the doctor- yet another- to investigate an abdominal pain I’ve been feeling for a couple of days. 5 days ago I thought I had a stomach ache, but since then the pain has remained steady and my right side has become swollen and tender to the touch. After investigating the symptoms Bryan and I decided I might be suffering from a gall stone some other unfortunate ailment. The pain is not debilitating- it is simply a throbbing burning that is fairly easy to ignore- but a visit to the doctor will be in order this afternoon regardless.

I hope this doesn’t interfere with the boys’ visit. Rob and Ricky fly in early tomorrow morning and I can’t wait to see them both. Rob’s been quite busy with his job and undoubtedly needs a rest, so dad and I will fight diligently to keep him away from his work, which can be accessed via internet. We have some fun things planned: two days at King’s Island, excellent seats to the reds game this Sunday, a trip to the Omnimax, and breakfast at Mimi’s the day they arrive. We’ll spend the majority of their week here lounging and enjoying one another’s company. I’m excited for the bustle that’s about to fill the house.

Other than that, though, it is business as usual; my training at Mimi’s ends tomorrow and work at Lonestar is as usual. I’m off to the doctor’s, darlings. Cheers.

I walk in and out of the library's isle and listen to the rain of the outdoors softly resound through the building. The thick walls and layers of cement strip the sound of any definition; the soft tapping resembles the crackling of an old record player much more than drops of rain. The floor to ceiling glass that encases the library, however, offers any lost description needed to aid any potential confusion. One look in any direction: south, northeast, southwest, west, any direction one could prefer would display a window, long, thick and yellowed, set in heavy panels around the building, ready to reveal the mystery of that strange clicking, ready to rob one of his or her silly suspicions and tell you the truth: it is raining outside.

The rain has subsided but has left the air damp, damp and solid, and even from the massive, air-conditioned indoors of this monmouth building can I feel the moisture. I am steeling time, as always, and as I wait for Cindy's niece (my cousin?) to finish browsing I am writing. The informational, omnipresent windows remind me continually that today has been an overcast, gray day, and that it has treated me well. Work at mimi's was pleasant and uplifting due to my discovery of the fair amount of money I'll be making. The work was fine and I have the evening off, during which Bryan and I have plans to visit the cinema, and this seemingly dark day has been remarkably happy. This stormy weather and the silly complaints it has inspired please me quite a bit, and in this rusted city a murky sky is appropriate in the most indescribable of ways. The city is fresh and ready to meet me, ready to provoke my curiosity and occupy a manic mind. This mood will cling to me for a day or two and sit atop my shoulder, accompany my exploits and my observation, even though my contentment lies only in the remembrance of recent rain.