By bikermama

  She was a loner.  People never seemed to understand her.  She didn't
quite follow the rules, the unwritten code of what to wear, who to speak
to, how to act.  She hid her loneliness with a tough hide, don't touch
look in her eye.  Cause once you touch, you feel, and the pain can sneak
up on you.
  But time wears away, erodes even the toughest armour.  Need takes
over, and the exposed heart is tender and very fragile.
  Giving a piece of herself began slowly, a word at a time.  Names
became familiar.  Then another loner reached out and asked for help, at
least for someone to listen.  Others reached out and sorrounded him in
his need.  And it was easy for her, too, to be there for him, because
she understood him.
  Then a tragedy, simple and immense, a boy named Ricky, burned, and his
mom's voice cried out her fear, and her pain, and the others gave their
strength to her, and rejoiced at every triumph.  She wasn't alone.  They
weren't alone.
  There was a circle there, shoulder to shoulder, solid, secure,
strong.  She could count on it.  And the loner joined the circle.  And
their  shoulders touched hers.
  And she knew they would protect her, too.  They could see the tender
place and they would guard it.  Because brotherhood stands in it's
strength and what she gave is what she had returned to her.  Because it
was right.
  Brotherhood is a discipline, a lifestyle.  It is a standing together. 
It is reaching out to someone when they need you, and you reaching out
when you need.  It shows an honest face.  It doesn't lie or steal.  It
listens.  It shares in tragedy and joy. 


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