HDHusband and I finally got around to watching some of our Netflix movies this weekend. We were primarily stoked to go downstairs and watch something (anything) in the very space we'd just busted ass cleaning. Or maybe that was just me??

REGARDLESS.

I had picked out a movie a month or so ago mostly because Mark Humpalo was starring. This is reason enough alone for me. My husband rolled his eyes, agreed to watching the movie, all the while making little snarky comments about The Man Who Does Not Know He Needs Me Yet.

Because I'd probably only picked out this movie due to his hot ass being IN it, I hadn't piad much attention to WHAT the movie was about.

I was floored, people.

The movie was essentially the relationship I have with my little brother. Me, the big sister, keeping shit together and worrying sick over where he is, what he's doing, if he's okay, and always - never failing - to be the one trying to help him back up when he's fallen yet again. Him, the one that was taken down after our dad died, never getting his shit together again, always a bit lost but possessing such a good, strong heart.

It was us.

HDH paused the movie, looked over and said, "Jeez! How does it feel to be watching your relationship with your brother on the big screen?"

At one point in the movie, he says to her, "It's nice to know no matter where I go and whatever I do, I know you are still at home, rooting for me". My brother said something like that to me once. He said he knew that no matter what, I was in his corner and the loudest one cheering for him.

I have that message saved on my phone.

My brother was 14 the night my dad died. He was home with my dad and mom when dad had his heart attack. My brother attempted CPR until the paramedics came. He was awarded the Citizen Award for Valor for trying to save our dad's LIFE. He was FOURTEEN. I remember coming home, seeing him standing by the window in our basement, and crying. I hugged him. He hugged me. And I can tell you at that moment, my brother changed into a kid that needed more than a hug.

My mom kicked him out in the next few months (nice lady, huh? Hating her.) and sent him to military school because she couldn't 'help him'. HE WANTED HIS DAD. He didn't want to be five hours away. How fucking shitty of her. He hasn't forgiven her for that, and I'm not sure he should. My brother would call me from the school at 5:30, when he was allowed, and beg and plead for me to come get him. I couldn't. I had no way of busting him out, but I drove almost eight hours ONE WAY almost EVERY WEEKEND to watch him STAND ON THE SIDELINES for the football games. He got out of that place a year later, told her he wouldn't be going back and didn't.

He's made a lot of mistakes and he's gotten in trouble for most of them. I don't enable him, and I certainly don't stand by when he fucks up again. He knows how I feel.

But Lord, I love that kid. He's still the little boy that tried to teach frogs to jump (and charged us .25 cents to watch) in my eyes.

The movie? You Can Count On Me.

It's a great movie. It's got a great message. Good music (especially if you like Steve Earle).

Rent it and enjoy a heartwarming story.