As a kid, my brother Jarrod’s bedroom window led out onto the part of our roof favored by all of us kids for its level of ease to climb on to and off of. It covered a portion of our cracked wraparound porch, the railing of which served as one step, the opened screen door another, and that was all it took to get up there.
Another brother, Jason, snuck out constantly. He would run off to the gravel pits behind our house to meet up with his friends and drink beer, sniff gas, and run through the bonfires they made from old tires and surrounding tree branches. He went in and out of Jarrod’s bedroom window to do this, late at night and then even later, confident that Jarrod would never rat him out.
And, Jarrod never did. He kept Jason’s secrets, and mine, and our step-dad’s. He held it all in and became a Mormon and channeled every ounce of his energy into religion, and today, like then, life just couldn’t possibly be more full of sunshine than when seen through Jarrod’s eyes.