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| Re: my socks & brother’s whole outfit. Please note that this was the 70s. |
My little brother and I haven’t always gotten along.
There was the time, for instance, in elementary school, when someone ripped a whole in the fabric below the top bunk bed. My mother, having had enough of our antics of late, confronted us at breakfast.
Who did this? she demanded. No one leaves for school until one of you fesses up.
We scurried off to solve this fresh dilemma. Sequestered in his bedroom, we debated what to do. I was furious and desperate not to be late. “Tell her,” I hissed. “Tell her you did it or we’ll be late for school.”
We tromped back into the kitchen, slowly, one after the other, and my 8-year old brother confessed.
But why, asked my mom. Why did you do it?
I didn’t really do it, he claimed, head down. I just don’t want to be late for school.
His recant didn’t help. And naturally, I didn’t forgive the grievance for quite some time.
But, more often than not, we were friends. When the movers came, as they did every three years, and packed up the boxes with our treasured belongings, it was my brother who stayed by my side. When we climbed into the old Honda or Lincoln Convertible (sweet ride, I know!), and pointed the car north, or south, to the next military base, it was my brother giggling with me in the backseat, speculating whether the new base would have a nice swimming pool, and wondering how we’d find new friends.
The smell of the wrapping materials and cardboard boxes stays with me; if I close my eyes, I can conjure it in seconds. In a new place, the empty rooms echo for awhile, until bit by bit you fill them with tiny pieces of your soul, little slivers of you that say I live here now, this is my home. The room softens. In the midst of the Madonna posters, piles of clothes, and algebra homework I made my way towards new friends and new memories, until we moved again.
And always, my brother was with me.
He lives 1,200 miles away now, but it doesn’t really matter. The threads are woven, the bonds are strong. If I need him, I can count on him to be there.
What about my own boys? If they live far away—or even nearby one another—I wonder if they will share this type of bond. How about you? Do you share a bond with a sibling? Do you think your kids will?
my sister and I were not close at all growing up, we were often adversaries, not speaking to each other for months at a time in early adulthood. now we are incredibly close – she is my sister, she is my friend – and I am deeply grateful for our relationship, one I never ever thought we would have.
Danielle, Thanks for chiming in. This whole sibling relationship thing is so interesting to me. I'm curious about the variables and why some draw close and others push away. So glad you and your sister somehow changed your dynamic!
Gees, you made me laugh and made me cry with this post. I remember those days. Wonderful they were; I still think your outfits were darling. Love you, Mom
Thanks for the thoughts on moving and siblings. We recently moved and I'd like to think that my three kids feel that same sense of support with each other amid all the changes in friends, schools, houses, etc.