My Brother
No one can ever steal my childhood away. Yesterday I watched an old 1970s kung fu movie--the Drunken Master. Over the years, I've developed a palate for cheesy, low-budget movies, but kung fu films are special because they remind me of my brother and the hours we spent watching classics like The Drunken Monk, Enter the Dragon, and The Master of the Flying Guillotine at odd hours of the night.
My brother and I have had a rocky relationship. On the surface we have little in common. He's a boisterous rabble-rouser and always has been, with a penchant for fun nights on the town and sports games. We have divergent tastes in music and are eight years apart in age. During his high school years, he stressed my parents. Powerless and innocent, I nevertheless felt involved when arguments hit the house. When he had friends over, I often hid.
We grew up together with all the joys and pains of family. When I was a kid, he built forts and obstacles. We clambered over bridges made of beds and pillows and hopped across the gulf between furniture. He always offered his hand to help me bridge the gap.
He slept in our finished basement. Sometimes I joined him. Once, when I was too young, we needed subterfuge. I built a decoy of pillows beneath my blankets to fool my dad when he came to check if I was asleep and crept downstairs to the basement, like in a spy movie. My brother and I watched kung fu movies and played video games until I snuck back up before morning.
I saw my first R-rated movie with my brother. Played my first video game. Threw my first football. Kicked my first soccer ball. He helped me with my first crush and all the heartbreaks since then.
As I got older, we talked. Turns out, we had a lot in common. Uncertain of our standing, we both felt a little lost with our lives. He offered a lot of advice and a lot of comfort. Sometimes he just gave me the laugh I needed.
Relationships are subtle and mysterious. You never know when a relationship will mean something. I suppose I've loved my brother for a long time. He's always been there, a source of inspiration and comfort. We grew up together and talk when we can. I know he doesn't realize how much he means to me. But, truth be told, I didn't either until yesterday.
Love has no schedule. I never expected to be tearing up over my brother today, but here I am. No rhyme, no reason. He's miles away, off in New York, imbedded in his own life, with his own losses and ambitions as he starts his new job as a biology teacher and hunts for an apartment. Two separate lives apart, but linked at the heart strings.
Our lives are full of strangers that leave no knots. They come and go. Sometimes they make a mark, but even that fades. When individuals move us to tears because we love them so much, I think the beauty of the world shines through all the grief, and loss, and anger that often overtakes it. We become a little less rugged, a little less independent--perhaps a little more open--because we wonder how far we would have made it without them and how much of them finds its home inside of us. When love moves us to tears, our heart wells up to the surface and shouts, "I'm human" without shame.
Everything else falls short in the face of that. Teardrops wash the morning clean like dew.
My brother and I have had a rocky relationship. On the surface we have little in common. He's a boisterous rabble-rouser and always has been, with a penchant for fun nights on the town and sports games. We have divergent tastes in music and are eight years apart in age. During his high school years, he stressed my parents. Powerless and innocent, I nevertheless felt involved when arguments hit the house. When he had friends over, I often hid.
We grew up together with all the joys and pains of family. When I was a kid, he built forts and obstacles. We clambered over bridges made of beds and pillows and hopped across the gulf between furniture. He always offered his hand to help me bridge the gap.
He slept in our finished basement. Sometimes I joined him. Once, when I was too young, we needed subterfuge. I built a decoy of pillows beneath my blankets to fool my dad when he came to check if I was asleep and crept downstairs to the basement, like in a spy movie. My brother and I watched kung fu movies and played video games until I snuck back up before morning.
I saw my first R-rated movie with my brother. Played my first video game. Threw my first football. Kicked my first soccer ball. He helped me with my first crush and all the heartbreaks since then.
As I got older, we talked. Turns out, we had a lot in common. Uncertain of our standing, we both felt a little lost with our lives. He offered a lot of advice and a lot of comfort. Sometimes he just gave me the laugh I needed.
Relationships are subtle and mysterious. You never know when a relationship will mean something. I suppose I've loved my brother for a long time. He's always been there, a source of inspiration and comfort. We grew up together and talk when we can. I know he doesn't realize how much he means to me. But, truth be told, I didn't either until yesterday.
Love has no schedule. I never expected to be tearing up over my brother today, but here I am. No rhyme, no reason. He's miles away, off in New York, imbedded in his own life, with his own losses and ambitions as he starts his new job as a biology teacher and hunts for an apartment. Two separate lives apart, but linked at the heart strings.
Our lives are full of strangers that leave no knots. They come and go. Sometimes they make a mark, but even that fades. When individuals move us to tears because we love them so much, I think the beauty of the world shines through all the grief, and loss, and anger that often overtakes it. We become a little less rugged, a little less independent--perhaps a little more open--because we wonder how far we would have made it without them and how much of them finds its home inside of us. When love moves us to tears, our heart wells up to the surface and shouts, "I'm human" without shame.
Everything else falls short in the face of that. Teardrops wash the morning clean like dew.