Memories Of My Baby Brother

There was an eight year difference in age between my baby brother and me. I am sure that he used every day of that difference to find new and better methods of forcing me into an early institutionalization. He like most other little brothers, looked up to and admired his big sister, and perhaps it is for this very reason that he was such a professional at finding new and creative means of driving me insane. He always insisted on being around me.

'I'm bored' was a catch phrase in our home that usually meant, 'Guess what, I am going to follow you everywhere and repeat everything that you say or do until our next meal comes along and prevents it'......and he did!

He was always bored and, he used the standard 'repeat every word she says' routine to alleviate that boredom. Unfortunately I was usually the focus of his attachment, and there was no means short of out and out right murder, to rid myself of my pesky little shadow. Even the bathroom wasn't much of a reprieve because my devoted companion could patiently wait out any alloted amount of time for me to venture back out to resume our shadow game.

Now that I think back on it, I suppose that it was better to know exactly where the little bugger was at, because another of his favorite games involved surprise attacks on me. These attacks were kind of scary, and at one point almost involved the loss of my eye, and a few times almost the loss of his life if he hadn't ran as fast as he did.

His basic plan in this game was to lie in wait for me (this kid had patience) and at the least appropriate moment in time he would spring from his hiding place to leap onto me, knocking me to the floor or ground, depending in which area he was hiding and at what height. If he planned his attack just right he would land on me in a piggyback position and I would be forced to cart him around until I could finally manage to shake him from his stranglehold on my neck.

I'll make a little note here on the fact that I suffer from tunnel vision so he definitely had an advantage over me in this game! He would hide in trees, under furniture so he could grab onto my legs as I walked by, and behind buildings. One of his favorite spots to wait for me was the back of our old couch, it was conveniently snuggled up right next to our kitchen doorway so that when I walked in, you guessed it! BANG! He had me!

With the combination of my tunnel vision, and his size, he was one pint sized little terror.

Someone should have banned elastic bands or at least placed an age limit on their usage. They can be lethal weapons when they fall into the wrong hands. My little brother had a slingshot that he had made from the joint of a tree branch and one very heavy duty elastic band. This sling shot was nothing less than the ultimate 'lethal' outdoor play toy. He also managed to fashion himself a bow and arrow using an old wooden ruler, an elastic band, and a fully sharpened pencil to use as an arrow. I almost lost an eye with that one, but it was nothing compared to the damage that would have occurred to him except for that fact that his desperate screaming successfully summoned his most steadfast of all allies, our mother! Her conversations somehow all seemed to end with, "Just stop picking on your brother".

Picking on my brother?

Which somehow reminds me of his unauthorized usage of bugs and worms as instruments of torture. They showed up in my bed, in my plate, in my dolls furniture, and anywhere else that he could strategically locate them without my previous knowledge. And throughout it all he somehow managed to live unscathed through my many defensive counterattacks.

Oh, and did I mention that he had a total inability to chew food? Yep, he sucked his food! He would spend hours with a piece of food in his mouth contentedly sucking it. It drove me and my older sister out of our minds. She being the more aggressive of the two of us actually had plans of forcing his jaws into a chewing motion, but he once again managed to survive our wrath, courtesy of our mother's never ending intervention.

Then of course came the 'safety in numbers' routine as we aged. Now I am not sure if my mother had the idea that so long as my baby brother was along for security that we would have to behave ourselves in his presence or if she just wanted someone else to take care of him. But I can hear her voice echoing even today, "Just take your brother with you".

It is really really hard to get into any kind of trouble with that silly little face grinning at you.

Thankfully though little brothers do grow up and finally become old enough to want to chase other girls around.

Freedom does eventually arrive!

Life can change in a heartbeat. Suddenly all that was isn't, and all that should have been, will never be. One moment ticks on the clock, one terrible moment in time that can never be erased, never changed, and never forgotten. In that small instant life becomes something foreign, a place no longer safe, and all that I can do is shake my head in disbelief.

Then here I stand. A blubbering fool on a street corner with tears streaming down my face. I haven't slept for two nights and I am too tired to control anything let alone a few measly tears. I know that everything is going to be okay, it always is, but god does it ever hurt right now. There's a voice screaming in my head, "What happened? Exactly what the hell just happened here?".

It is one of those questions that I don't think that I want to know the answer to. Maybe I just don't want to deal with it right now or maybe I am just not strong enough to deal with it right now. I walk slowly back to the house, phone my daughter, and tell her that I am leaving him. Then I pack up my truck, kiss my home, trust and dreams goodbye, and I run for my life. All the while I am thinking, "Who gave up you or I?". Either way it doesn't matter. It is over and I am alone again.

I am alone..........and time seems to move so slowly. Every minute seems like an hour and every day feels like a week.

The cashier smiles at me and says, "How are you today?".

Humph? Let me think about that one. I have just had my heart ripped out and I am standing here with this huge gaping hole in my chest.

Gosh, I guess considering the circumstances, I'm not all that bad. Could be worse I guess. I might have lost an arm or a leg in addition to the heart.

I just want to go back home and hide.

Which brings us to my new concept of home. Home is actually now a bedroom at my brothers house. Not that I need a bedroom as I no longer sleep. If I have gotten four hours sleep in the past week I would be surprised. Every time I close my eyes the all too familiar images of us and our happy home life send me screaming back out to the comfort of the living room and my brother's bachelor wisdom. "Have a beer", he says. Then he pulls out the crib board and we talk and joke about how funny being single is, and it helps. A little more time passes by and I get one hour closer to getting over 'him'.

And time passes till one day I wake up and I am living again. I have no idea how or when it happened? But I am nestled snuggly into my new life and everything is okay again. That day that I stood by the side of the road debating whether or not to walk out in front of a truck, is over.

Thank god for those that stand behind and beside us. More specifically thank god for my baby brother. That strong gentle man who listened to my ramblings and rantings, who let me cry, whine and be angry. Who, through it all let me think that I was okay, until I really was okay again.

.........And to anyone else who still has to endure the torment of a younger brother or sister.

My sympathies

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