My brother and I didn't get along much while we were growing up.
We get along great now – now that we don’t live together.
He was almost nine when I was born and left for college when I was going into fourth grade.
Back then, we fought all
the
time.
Back then, when he would spend any time with me, I loved every second. I sought him out and wanted to be with him all the time, which drove him crazy. But he was so cool. I wanted more than anything to be part of whatever he was doing, although I think he saw me as the annoying little sister, and most of the time just wanted me to go away.
When we went on family vacations in the motor home, he would build forts above the front seat. He allowed me up there – once. It was awesome!
Usually when we spent time together, he would want to play a game. I was willing to do anything, as long as he would do it with me.
We played Othello, Mastermind and Monopoly. He also taught me how to play Chess.
He was always black. I was never allowed to be black. He taught me – during one game – that a white pawn cannot kill a black queen. I didn’t remember that being part of the original rules. He doesn’t remember telling me that at all.
We would also play with matchbox cars on the ledge in front of the fireplace. He would stage elaborate car accidents with the cars and I had to be the sleuth and figure out which car caused the accident. I was always ready for the challenge. And I remember getting at least some of them right.
When I was in elementary school, I went through a period of time where I was scared. Of everything. You name it, I was scared of it:
Earthquakes
Fires
Tornadoes
Hurricanes
Tsunamis
Volcanoes…
I would play music as I went to bed so I could sleep, so I could concentrate on something – anything – else, and wouldn’t hear any weird noises. The player was under my bed, and I would reach over the side of my bed against the wall to press play every night as I went to sleep.
One night my mom was saying goodnight to me and praying with me, and the cat walked in, cocked his head and went under the bed, outing my brother who was waiting there to scare me.
I’m not sure I would have ever slept again if his plan had worked.
Later, probably because he felt bad, my brother sat down with me and walked me through every fear I had. At least the natural disaster ones.
Earthquakes? They are rare and far between. Fires? We had a fire hydrant in our front yard. His answer for all the others: we lived in California. And not near the ocean.
I responded to logic.
I wasn’t scared anymore (mostly).
As much crap as my brother gave me over the years – and I’m sure I gave a lot back to him – he was the only one who got me past those fears.
He was the only one who was able to get through.
And I think it had to be him. Because he was the only one who would say it as it was.
No niceties.
No fluff.
And it was so clear. It was so basic that I wondered why I hadn’t figured all that out by myself.
But I think I needed him to say it
so I could hear it.