Fifteen days ago, on July 1st, my younger brother went missing. It seemed the longer he was gone the less likely he would be found at all or found alive and in one piece. As I practically started to accept (after several melancholy days of spontaneous tears and fears) that he might never turn up or even turn up alive, my brother Kevin left a message on my machine last night at 9:30 p.m. that he was at the Pine Street Inn; a well-known homeless shelter in Boston. Unless something unforeseen happens (like A-holes who beat up homeless people for kicks) my brother Kevin should be home and back to his regular life after a brief hospitalization. I'm not at all a religious person, but I feel genuine gratitude for those who prayed for his safe return and the police and others who worked so hard to try to locate him.
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