Brothers

We celebrate Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, but there is no day set aside for our siblings, perhaps hinting at the complexity and depth of sibling relationships. Relationships with parents seem relatively straightforward when compared with the ones we share with our siblings. Siblings hone in on our flaws, while parents may be unwilling or unable to recognize the truth that our siblings, closer to us in age and less forgiving of our inadequacies, so readily see. Siblings are also a source of comfort and friendship—that is what my younger brother is to me. He is my best friend, and in honor of his 23rd birthday, I would like to dedicate this column to him and to all the other younger brothers who have alternately beat the crap out of and unconditionally loved their older sisters.
Among my brother’s first childhood memories is my experiment with Newton’s law that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I was a five-year-old brat, and he was a stubborn four-year-old. We were locked in a mortal tug of war over a hideous, bubble gum pink winter jacket that neither of us really wanted. We struggled over it until a rather nasty thought popped into my head: “What would happen if I just let go?” So I did, and my brother didn’t even have time to savor the sweetness of unexpected victory before he flew head first into the sharp, jutting corner of our sofas. He stood up, a pool of blood streaming down his face. “I’ve killed him!” was my first remorseful thought. The second was an instinct for self-preservation: I had seen enough of the show “Cops” to know what they did to the bad guys. As my uncle frantically dialed 911, I knew it was all over, and so I did the only thing I could do: I hid under my aunt’s bed for hours, until my brother came home with his forehead held together by 4 tiny stitches. He still has the scar to this day.
Our relationship evolved as we grew older, and he grew taller and stronger. More often that not, I was on the receiving end of the violence, although the most he would do was try to smother me with his smelly socks. We fought like rabid dogs over toys, the radio (I was a Backstreet Boys fan and he wanted to listen to Metallica, and we only had one radio), even clothes (I’ll admit that this was all my fault; I stole his clothes during my thankfully brief tomboy phase). My mother despaired that we would kill each other. Then one day, it all just stopped. One day in high school I remember sitting with him at the kitchen table at 1am frantically trying to study for my Latin final the next day. All of a sudden, he said something, and it was either really funny or I was really tired, but I laughed so hard that I fell off my chair, landed on the kitchen floor, and kept laughing. At 2 in the morning, we were still swapping dumb stories and jokes. That night marked the beginning of a friendship that has sustained me through some of the most difficult and wonderful times of my life.
My brother has been there for me at every turning point in my life, alternately providing comfort and solace and deflating my ego and ensuring that I remain humble. When I got my first proposal as a geeky teenager with braces and my brother found out, he laughed so hard that he could barely gasp out the words: “That auntie must have been blind!” which promptly deflated any pride I could have taken in finally getting a proposal after years of being the ugly duckling in my family. When I was having gastrointestinal problems just thinking about going to college and living so far away from home, he helped me move a van full of boxes into my new dorm room and came to visit me at least once a year at college, often driving five hours just to see me for two days. When I obsessed over academics, he reminded me that there was more to life than just studying and told me to be spontaneous…so we planned a trip to Ireland together. When our grandfather died, the only person who could really understand what I was feeling was him.
With his sardonic wisdom, he analyzes exactly what I’m feeling when I myself can’t figure it out. He patiently puts up with me when I’m being a bossy, overprotective older sister. He reflects the person I wish to be and encourages me to develop into that person. He has taught me how to enjoy the present moment. For all that, little brother, I want to thank you.