"Leaving a Red Brick House"

 

"It's a good house," the second brother said to the first while they were standing outside their younger sibling's home of rich, red brick. "Better than anything I could ever build."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me about the value of a good house," the first brother said. He glanced two lots over, at the pile of blown thatch that had once been his. 

The second brother turned to him. "So why don't you want to stay?" he asked.

"In there?" The red house sat in front of them, kindly and squat.

"With us," said the second brother. "As one of us."

The first brother squealed. "Oh, come on. 'One of us'? Really? You're talking like some girl's going to come kiss me into a prince or something." He sighed. "We've been through this. It's just--you know, after everything that's happened, I've been wondering what I've been doing with my life. Why all of this--" he pointed with a hoof at the brick house "--matters. No offense. But maybe it's time for something more spiritual, I guess."

"It's 'cause you're getting old," said the second brother.

The first brother raised an eyebrow, then snorted a laugh. "Yeah, well, losing a house sure makes you feel old," he said. "But you should know that. Shit, you're just as much a geezer as I am, in that case."

"Just a few years away from my own existential crisis," the second brother agreed. "Still don't see myself picking a religion where they butcher me, though."

The first brother saw the second glancing back at his loins and became confused and suspicious. Then he remembered. "Right, the circumcision thing," he said with a shrug. "Eh, it could be worse. Overall, I feel pretty safe with them."

"Yeah, I guess I can see that." The second brother nudged the first with his forehead and began trotting toward the brick house. "I think it's just slop in the trough tonight, but what do you say? One more dinner where you don't have to worry about keeping kosher?"

The first brother stared at his youngest sibling's home. The home was family; it represented everything he had ever known, the sum of his life story as it so far had been written. But what was he without a home? He didn't yet have the answer. He knew only that there were a people who had gone homeless for forty years and were still around today. The rabbi wasn't expecting him for a few days anyway; everyone knew how long a trip it was to the temple. So, "Sure," the first brother said the second, and they went to join the third brother for a meal of scraps, their last together before the first brother left to begin his journey through the study of the Torah. He tried to imagine the taste of milk and honey the entire time he ate.