tumbled thoughts in a silver tumbler

I don't recall how but it started as joke-
I told my mom I wanted all my old things
my mom handed me that tumbler,
a small one of tarnished silver,
edges now rounded,
I don't remember each and every mark
but she does.
(I had made them by throwing it in fits of anger)
she said, "you always wanted the same tumbler
to drink milk, water or juice
somedays you even hid it from my brothers."
no way, I tell her,
I was ever ready to share with one brother-
I was always hanging around him,
even when his friends visited
he too indulged me,
he would have bought me the moon
and stars thrown in a good measure
if I wished for it
also the way I was ever ready to do
whatever he asked me too
(he never did)
I stored my share of goodies for him
(which he did take once in a while)-
the same one who is estranged from us now.

I put aside that tumbler
and I ask my mom in a desolate voice
does he ever think of me, of us?
will leverage of our love remedy the space?
I want my feelings to reach out to him
my tumbler of love and affection to overwhelm him
I fear what if it doesn't,
will I survive, will my mom survive?
I hug that small silver tumbler to my heart