We made up during the war when you returnt to Sanaa because you were injured. Silly things, futilities had divided us but I was so proud of you: going to the front, too young, just for your country.
Finding each other, again, has been one of the few sensible things I have ever done in my life.
I told you I loved you and still cared for you the same way. And you taught me to open my mouth during airstrikes and that no, fear was not admitted. Fear for what?
You are in ICU now, injured again. They brought you back from the front last night.
There are so many things I would like to tell you because you are too young to succumb to this war.
Just know I love you and miss you, always.
Keep fighting, if you can hear me, keep fighting. For yourself now.
My Little Brother, Hamoudi.
(I remember these words of Leo Buscaglia now: