Band of Boys.

I've never quite known

how to be one of the girls.

Not for lack of trying,

mind you.

But somewhere along the way,

I found myself

surrounded by boys.

And wouldn't you know it—

everyone had something to say.

"Men and women can't be friends.

Someone always wants more.

Someone always gets hurt."

Funny.

Nobody ever warned me

about the chili.

Or the friend who makes it

for an event I won't attend,

sending some down the drive

just because he knows I like it.

Or the one who checks up on me

when he's the one who's drunk,

singing System of a Down

in the middle of my living room.

One brings the tequila,

another brings the water.

One makes sure I've eaten

when I've spent the whole evening

feeding everybody else.

Another stands beside me at the sink,

drying vintage dishes

that can't go in the dishwasher,

while laughter spills from the next room

and neither of us minds missing out.

One stays late to stack lawn chairs

long after the fire dies.

Another brings the s'mores,

because he knows

there'll be a fire to begin with.

One finds turtle shells in creeks

and brings them home to me

like little treasures

he knew I'd love.

Another takes unflattering pictures

and points out the good parts,

even when I can't see them.

One jumps my car in the cold,

digs me out of the snow

when I get a little too confident

on the ice.

Another makes sure I've gotten home,

and worries when I don't answer.

One has held me while I sobbed.

Another has gone to war for me

without ever asking me

to pick up a weapon.

One slept beside me on New Year's,

and never asked for anything

but a place to rest.

Others have stayed beside me

when my brain betrayed me,

kept me safe through seizures

and made sure I had somewhere soft

to land.

They've held my doors in the rain,

my coat in the cold,

and my heart in their hands

with a gentleness

the world doesn't always

give them credit for.

And somewhere in my truck

there's a bottle of water

one of them handed me

the morning after my wedding.

I never even drank it.

It sat there for a week,

unopened and unnoticed,

until I climbed back into the driver's seat

and realized

just how much love

can fit inside

the smallest of gestures.

In bowls of chili,

in turtle shells,

in dirty dishes and folding chairs.

In late-night texts

and early-morning water bottles.

No grand declarations.

No hidden intentions.

No price to pay

for being cared for.

Just a band of boys

who've made a habit

of showing up for me.

So let them wonder

what a girl like me

is doing with all these boys.

They can keep their questions.

I've got my brothers.