My baby brother

He was born when I was 5. It was two weeks before the war of Yom Kippur. I thought of the new baby as mine to love and play with. It was so far from reality! He was moms, not mine and the world around me was falling apart. We had sandbags around the house, black covers on the windows. My father was drafted into the war and disappeared for many days just to return silent and mournful than ever and my young mother sitting with three little children in the sultry shelter.