Mulled

Levi’s laugh echoed, carrying through the cool night air and traveling along the empty streets. He stopped walking and doubled over in hysterics, covering his mouth while trying to control himself. When his breathing returned to normal, he straightened up and wiped the corners of his eyes.

“I am lucky to have a great philosopher as my little brother.” He pointed to a house down the street. “We should hurry home.” 

I admit now, with a rueful smile, that for many years I did not appreciate the miracle I experienced that night. It was when I reunited with Levi decades later that I could put a name to this miracle while crying uncontrollably into his shoulder. The young boy trapped in the darkest recesses of my heart had at last emerged from the lonely forest trail and used the full moon’s pale light to find his way home.