Brotherhood is everywhere right now, thanks to the Kelce Brothers. Their podcast has taken off thanks to some spectacular post-season play, a Super Bowl win for Travis and the Chiefs, and, most recently, Jason’s emotional retirement speech. He tearfully thanks his parents, his wife, Eagles fans, and especially his younger brother, who has been at his side since they were peewees tackling each other in Cleveland Browns helmets in the family backyard.

Their relationship and emotional openness have made headlines (a worldwide obsession with Travis’ girlfriend, Taylor, doesn’t hurt either). In 2023, they played against each other in the Super Bowl, and the mixed emotions after the game were equal parts joy and sadness, celebration and mourning. Each wanted to succeed and have their brother succeed, knowing that only one would win. I love how they have supported each other through the highs and lows of their lives, and their honest appreciation for each other is heartwarming.

There’s something special about brotherhood, whether it be a literal sibling bond or a chosen one that lasts a lifetime, which is why the Kelce boys’ story is so compelling.

My husband’s best friend calls him his brother, and it’s not a term taken lightly. In times of trouble, joy, or even when a song from their college days comes on the radio, there’s only one person they call. My boys call him Uncle Sammy, and in a world of unreliable people, he’s the one guy who consistently shows up, literally and figuratively. How lucky they are to have each other and the shared memories of a time in their lives before mortgages and kids. Somehow, these boys survived reckless antics and lived to tell the tale (repeatedly), giggling in delight every time.

The phrase, ‘My brother,’ or even ‘Bruh’ as an unadorned text message, comprises layers of emotion. It’s an unspoken pact of friendship, a bond that defies definition. In my opinion, it is different than Sisterhood because Sisters-ness is all about communication and expressing closeness and connection. Brotherhood is often the strong, silent type of love.

My two sons, ages 10 and 12, are in the adversarial stage of their relationship, and they actively torment each other (and their parents by proximity). They will eat any snack if the other one wants it, sit anywhere the other one wants to be, or watch anything the other one dislikes the most. I’m told this is normal, but it’s annoying.

They go to different schools this year, and our morning commute, which used to be a three-person trek together, is now a two-act process in opposite directions. A few weeks into this new routine, my younger son confessed how much he missed being with his brother in the morning and seeing him around school. I encouraged him to admit to his brother and tell him how he felt.

It hasn’t happened (yet).

My husband and I remind them that their relationship as brothers is forever. Long after we are gone, they hopefully will have each other. Nobody else will have experienced the same things, been raised by the same parents, and eaten the same meals together as they have.

James Patterson wrote, “Half the time when brothers wrestle, it’s just an excuse to hug each other.” And even a day when they tussle, wrestle, and poke each other relentlessly with physical and emotional jabs, they still say I love you each night before bed.

Even in those moments of chaos, there's an unspoken "I love you" communicated through every tussle, tease, and shared glance. My sons worry about each other, seek approval from each other, and use me as their go-between to express their feelings because, in this pre-pubescent stage, they are not comfortable expressing that level of vulnerability. As their unwitting mediator, I translate their hidden affections, hoping one day they'll find the words themselves.

As my boys grow into men, I hope they will evolve into adults who have a relationship like the Kelce Brothers. There will be conflict and forgiveness, joy and sorrow, and a time when they need to be apart in order to form their own unique identities. But when they come together, I hope they see in each other not only a reflection of their own genetic material but a true comrade and friend who is there for them in all ways, no matter what.

Their life experiences will weave the rich, complex tapestry of their brotherhood, ensuring that no matter where life takes them, they have an unbreakable connection to come back to—a connection that transcends the mere fact of being brothers and elevates their relationship to one of deep, enduring friendship.

Because in the end, that's what brotherhood boils down to—a complex, beautiful mess of love, annoyance, rivalry, and undying loyalty, all wrapped up in a four-letter text that means the world.

Bruh.