Stovetop Thoughts

It's Saturday night, the feeling of exhaustion weighs on me but nonetheless I get up to meal prep for the week. 
As I go to the kitchen, I grab my beanie to wear as a comfort, like pajamas for my head. I grab my earphones and throw on some acoustic jams. 
As the food cooks over the hot stove top, I feel the steam hitting my face and I stare at the oil sizzling and that's when I think about him. 
Why do you come into my thoughts so frequently and yet always so sudden, catching me off guard.

The memories, all the moments leading up to it. 
Your voice, the sound- no the laughs, the anger, the love. How each sounded. It's gets harder to remember everytime it invades my thoughts.
I think of the way you'd look at me, gaining my approval when you spoke and also when you listened to me. How you would talk to me, like brothers do. 
Brothers.
What does that word even mean?

Blood? 
Closeness?
A bond?

I guess I never thought about it, you have been there my whole life, watching over me and me watching over you. Well, mostly me watching over you. 
You were the trouble maker, I was the responsible one. 
But that didn't matter, in the end I realized how much better yo-

"Huh?"

Something's burning.

"Oh.." the chicken.