My Little Brother

I have to say, my relationship with my little brother has come full-cycle. I call him my “little” brother, despite the fact that he’s 19 and 6 inches taller than me. But I changed his diaper once and used to torment him mercilessly. Therefore, he will always be little to me.

Our relationship started out as me loving my little brother. He was so dang cute, it was ridiculous. He was my pet. Then, when he was about two years old, he pulled a giant handful of my hair out of my head while we were trying to take a picture. It took me 16 years to forgive him. After that, we were punching/kicking/biting/choking/suffocating each other on a daily basis. We lived to torment each other. Our parents sat us down and said: “You two have it all wrong. You should be banding together to fight us, not each other!” About 8 years later, we figured that out. Except now we’re old enough to not have to fight our parents. Too little, too late, I guess.

Nowadays, our relationship has become one of mutual respect, love, and understanding of each other. I am proud to say that he comes to me for advice, contacts me sometimes just to talk, tells me he’s proud of me, and all sorts of things I never thought we’d do. I tell him I’m proud of him, that he’s so grown up and smart. He’s become so mature. I mean, he’s still 19, but he’s become worldly. I enjoy talking to him and being around him.

Some of my fondest memories of him are playing Princess and Dinosaur, seeing him in a pumpkin costume, the first time he hugged me after I got back from university, last Thanksgiving, my wedding, and talking to him on the phone after I got this job. He still gets on my nerves. Lord knows he has his bad habits. For instance, he takes showers at 2am. And he can’t seem to take a shower without blasting heavy metal. Our dad is deaf and our mother sleeps like the dead, but I am not deaf and wake up at loud noises. Another example is when he walks in on the middle of a conversation and interrupts. I hate the clothes he wears and the music he listens to (for the most part.) I also hate how obsessed he is with looking like Marilyn Manson. I’ll just have to get past that and accept these things. They don’t spark arugment anymore, so I suppose that’s a step forward.

My brother is not having any health issues. He’s still alive. But I felt a little sentimental today and it just happened to land on him. I know he won’t read this, but I think he knows I love him. I used to wish I’d never had a little brother. Now, I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

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About mrsalicia

I am a Paralegal at a small criminal defense and personal injury firm in my small town. I graduated from Western Washington University with a BA in Political Science and Philosophy. I have my Paralegal Certificate, as well. I write a blog in my spare time. I am married to a wonderful man and recently gave birth to a beautiful little girl. View all posts by mrsalicia

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