To My Brother: Who Might Never Read This

This is a shout out for anyone with a younger sibling or a close friend like a brother/sister; in my case this is dedicated to my brother.

I have a baby brother, who might kill me for calling him that, who is also my best friend. I know personally he has another person he views as his best friend, and I am happy for him, but he is mine. We are almost five years apart, but we seem closer somehow. To help this claim, random girls will come up to me and ask how old my “older” brother is.  It is hilarious to see their reaction when I tell them he is seventeen.  I am perfectly fine with their comments, because this must mean I look younger, Bonus Points!!

Anyways back to brother.  Yesterday, I realized that I can always depend on him. I knew this, in the back of my head, but I didn’t register it until that moment. Basically he always has my back.

I am sure you reading this is stirring up memories of your past with a close friend or sibling.  Talking about my little bro makes me think about our childhood.  I have been told by several relatives that I used to carry him around everywhere, and when I would get tired I would plop down and hug him in my lap.  Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time and watch our bond mold. Also I wish I could travel back to tell my teenager self to listen to my mom and stop being a big sister jerk to him.  All teenagers go through this stage, don’t lie to yourself, that they are incredibly embarrassed of their family. Thankfully, my mom got through, because if I had continued with that attitude I would have never decided for him to be my best friend.

However, teenage “me” had some good reasons for being annoyed sometimes, because my little brother would make it his mission to drive me crazy!  He probably was just mimicking me, of how I used to treat our older brother. You remember those days when your sibling would make a continuous repetitive noise in your vicinity…and how you would sit there until your brain felt like it would explode.  Yes I had many of those experiences.  The only time I survived those obnoxious noises, was when I chimed in as well. My poor mother. I also have proof; we have video that my brother made, when he was littler, that he clearly says:

“Now you take this pen and throw it at your sister,”

At the time I was not aware this video was being made, but I did get hit with the yellow highlighter.

Okay, enough with memory lane, earlier I said that I had realized I could always depend on my brother in small things he did for me.  I was doing my homework and I was have trouble revising a sentence.  I turned and ask him if he could help me and without hesitation he stood up, walked over, helped me, and then returned to his own work.  Another moment was when I was making myself lunch and I decided I didn’t want all of it. I could see it in his face he didn’t really want food at the moment but he ate it.  Usually in this situation I am lucky if I get to take a bite before he uses those “puppy eyes” and I end up giving him it; he is a master of this technique. But as he ate the half of the grilled cheese for me, so I would not feel bad about wasting food, I remembered all the other times when he was there for me.

When I would have to meet new people and he would come along just in case no one wanted to talk to me. When I am sent out to do an errand for our mother, he always will come along with me. When we drive to school in the morning he will help me study for my test; I do the same for him but his smartness is different than mine.

Even though these are small simple things; it is the small simple things in life that matter the most. I am the luckiest sister in the world; because my brother, someone who will constantly be in my life, has also gained the title of friend. I would be a completely different person without him as my brother. So thank you to my mom for giving me a true friend and a brother forever. And hopefully my brother knows that I will always be there for him.  I know that he knows, that I am a bit over protective, but he is my baby brother and I love him. So, for anyone out there who has that person: sibling or friend, that you immensely enjoy their company, give them a hug, fist bump, pat on the back, or some other form of casual affection I am forgetting.  I am sure they know how you feel; but like everyone, everybody loves to receive small hints of gratitude.

So, in short, I have a younger brother and best friend all rolled into one; I for once am lucky.

A Story: Part 1

The night is cold but the sun from the morning is burned into my skin.  The harsh wind bites at my bare arms and hands wrapped around my chest.  I am finally at peace; I have no need to be afraid.  A fragrant breeze swirls my hair enveloping my face. I can smell the salty sea as it ripples around my slowly sinking feet.  The faint music trickles in as I sway to constant beat of the drums. Suddenly I hear crunching sand.  Footsteps are coming towards me slowly; however I am calm and relaxed.  Looking over my right shoulder I see the dark figure sarcastically tiptoeing forward. Giggling I turn back to wide sea and wait for the strong arms to surround me. A warm breath brushes against my neck and a face cradles itself on my shoulder.  We sigh together and stare out at the sea pausing and enjoying the harmony.

Beep!! Beep!! Beep!!

That stupid alarm clock! The pounding noise constantly disrupting my dreams.  Strange this dream was different today.  I am always on the beach but there is never anyone with me. That figure so dark and unrecognizable…

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“I’m gonna kill you,” as I hurl it at the wall; I try to enjoy the last few moments of bliss.  But instead…Bleep! Blerp…Blrrp…the dying alarm clock still attempts to ruin my morning. I sweep back the covers pulling myself up, as the clock is finally dead.  Hallelujah! Collapsing back and staring at my bland ceiling there are pounding steps coming up the stairs.

My heart races as I hold my breath hoping those steps keep moving. I perch myself on the bed while beads of sweat trickle down my face; I am ready to act if need be.

The steps hesitate outside my door…

“One…Two…Three…” hoping the steps continue on as I count to 10 in my head.

The shadow seeping in from over the door seems to soak into the floor boards trying to enter.

“Six…Seven…” I can feel my face ready to explode because lack of oxygen…

The steps walk past my door and continues on to the next room.  I release my breath and gasp for more air, still perched in case the steps come back.

As the steps continue to stop outside each door you hear a knob squeal. It must be at least four doors down.  I know the child inside that room is whimpering, because I have been that child.  The door squeaks open and then closed; suddenly a chilling scream fills the hall.

I have been that child at least I know the child is still alive.  If there had been no screams that would have meant death.  Least with a scream it means they have taken the child’s only precious possession…

His dreams.

A Story: Part 2