Sunday, December 20, 2015

A Brick of My Very Own

Many years ago my parents (or sister – I can't remember which) found a brick with the word Kimberly stamped into it.


That being my sister's name, they kept the brick and it has always been on the porch, where ever we lived.

I was looking at the brick not long ago and asked why my parents have a brick with my sister's name but not one with my name.

Their answer was that they'd never found a brick with my name on it.

Well, about a week or so after that I was standing on their porch and I noticed the brick again. I also noticed a pile of bricks on the back porch so I decided it was time to end the discrimination.

I grabbed a brick and wrote my name on it with a Sharpie.


I called my parents outside, showed them the brick and then watched as they laughed until they almost cried.

I also sent a picture to my sister who thought it was hysterical that I've been jealous of a brick.

I'm not jealous any more and if you'll notice – I put my brick on top.



Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands.  
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