Once upon a time, many years ago, when my brothers and I went to the beach for a family vacation, I was lying on the beach, sunbathing, when all of a sudden, I felt cold ocean water being dumped on my back. A pair of voices appeared.
“It’s a BEACHED WHALE! Hurry! We need to keep it wet, otherwise it’s going to DIE!”
“Yeah! It’s a WHALE!”
The two little buggers thought their joke was immensely hilarious and were proud of their little prank. There was a fit of giggles as the two boys scurried back into the ocean, out of reach of my angry lunges at them.
Man, if I hadn’t already grow somewhat attached to my brothers already . . . *shakes fist in the air*
They’ve since grown a little since then. I love them regardless of their shenanigans. So today . . .
Day -4: I am thankful for my brothers
Growing up, we moved a lot. From Alabama to Texas, North Carolina, New Jersey, and Maryland, I only had my brother. We learned to take care of one another, and we grew incredibly close. When our youngest brother came along when I was 10 and Jon was 8, we were excited to have an addition to the pack. It was like all the perks of having a pet, but with none of the responsibilities. And the added perk that said pet eventually began speaking and acting like a normal human being.
Despite their age difference, my brothers are two peas in a pod and get along as if they were twins. They came to visit me in July with my parents, and while I was undergoing surgery, they wandered Japantown during the Great Ramen Festival. The two of them showed up that evening with a fat stuffed creature in the shape of a loaf of bread. It was fantastically cute, and I named it Loaf of Bread, L.O.B. for short. (LOB sounds like Love. Get it? Oh, I crack myself up sometimes.) It’s sweet. I’m leaning against L.O.B. now.
When I went home in October, I went to visit the youngest one in college– he’s studying bioengineering at my alma mater, University of Maryland. It was weird to see someone I saw as a baby grow up to be such a hulking beast. And such a hustler at billiards.
They’re thoughtful and caring, and I couldn’t imagine life without them.
Even if one of them still acts like a petulant, moody teenager whenever his sister wants to take photos of him in the early hours of the afternoon . . . right after he just woke up.
But he’s a good sport. Thanks, baby bro!
Previous thankful days: