My brothers are home. My huge, gigantic, over-the-top brothers are home. While they’ve been gone, I’ve forgotten how to be a sibling.
For the past four months (can’t believe it has been that long), I’ve been an only child. The apple of my parents’ eye. Sure they called my brothers on the phone, but those were fifteen to twenty minute conversations filled with grunts and yeahs to mom and dad’s concentrated efforts to discover what was going on in their lives. Not twenty-four hours a day teasing and reminders about “Hey Fangst, remember when you were totally into dragons…remember that? You’re such a loser.” Or “You’re fat!”
Do not get me wrong. I love my brothers. Most of the time, I worship the ground they walk upon. They live super-cool, exciting lives where they no doubt are the most popular, charming guys around. One of them, on the cross-country road trip he took post-college, struck up a conversation with a kid in South Dakota and ended up being invited to all of this kid’s college graduation festivities. The other runs one of the largest organizations on his college campus with a reputation for throwing huge, awesome parties complete with bouncers and midgets.
I, on the other hand, am not so cool. Currently, I live at home. My most passionate activity over the past week has been watching NBC’s The Sing-Off with my mother. This, of course, submits me to a lot of mocking. A lot of (they better love me because otherwise this is just cruel) mocking. Every time I think I get more “adult-like,” my brothers arrive home to remind that I am really a very spoiled five-year-old who hates fun and laughing.
To be honest, I’m totally OK with that. Because when they leave, I’ll forget all the ribbing and the cruelty and remember the super-sweet Christmas gifts they bought me. Or their willingness to go to the movies with me. Or the random hug they gave me for making them some cookies. I’ll forget the jokes made about the General Hospital episodes saved on my DVR (for the Franco, I swear!), but remember their delight in discovering the quirkiness of Better Off Ted. And I’ll miss them. The house will seem big again without their well over six foot frames and ginormous shoes. My room will be quiet without their constant need to bang on my door and touch all my things. Like others who block out the horrors of (sibling) warfare, I’ll be excited for them to return home again.
And when that happens, I’ll hug them and say “How was your trip?” They’ll respond “Seriously, you’re eating a cookie? Nice to know things never change.” And then they’ll wrap me in a big hug and all will be quiet….for the moment.
