Family

optional prompt: family

My parents came from large families.  My mother is the oldest of eleven children, my father is somewhere in the middle of six.  But there's only just my brother and me.  Throughout most of our moving about, he was there, one small constant.  We got on each other's nerves on a daily basis, just because that is what siblings do.  When we were younger, our disagreements often resulting in physical altercations.  Except that I knew that he had my back, and I had his.  We were often the new kids, we were often targets.  But if you messed with my brother, you dealt with me.   And vice versa.

Now I have a husband and a son.  My brother has a wife and three teenagers.  His kids are much older than my boy, and his wife would rather spend time with her relatives than us.  It is what it is. We have our own lives, my brother and I, and though we live less than five miles from each other, we usually only meet on Sundays for the family dinner.  Conversations are limited to the time it takes to enjoy the meal, most days. 

But I know that if something happens, no matter what, my brother has my back. If I need him, he will be there.  And vice versa.  That is what family does. 

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Just Another Summer Day

Note: This week's Remembe(red) writing prompt is a photo(of a garden hose) to take you back in time. In 700 or fewer words, show us where your memory takes you. Remember that this image is merely inspiration. Your piece needn't have a hose in your piece, but we need to easily see how you were inspired by it.

Just as I thought that I would die of thirst, I saw it. Coiled on the patio in the back yard, the hose beckoned, an oasis in the desert.

I ran toward it, my little brother close behind. I got to the faucet first, and turned it on. My brother had picked up the other end of the hose and was about to drink.

"HEY!!!" I was outraged. By the Sacred Virtue of Birth Order, it was decreed that I always got to go first. Plus, like they said on tv, ladies were supposed to go first. I was the oldest(at five), I was a girl, so I went first.

Except that my brother didn't believe that. He believed that since HE was the youngest by two and a half years, the "adorable" baby of the family, he should go first. He also believed that I should just LET him go first, since he was the baby.

I could not allow this violation of All That Was Holy in my worldview to continue, so I did what any older sister would do: I tackled him. I took him out at the knees, and he let go of the hose as we both fell back into the grass. My brother did not take this punishment lightly--he fought back as fiercely as he could. We rolled around on the grass, yelling, the forgotten hose releasing all that cool, delicious water into the ground near us.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?!! My mother was suddenly hollering at us from the sliding glass door. We froze. "KNOCK IT OFF!!!"

There is nothing more powerful than the Fear of Mom, so of course we hopped right up, covered with grass stains. I ran over to the hose, suddenly thirstier than I had ever been before. I lean over the hose to take a drink.

"AND TURN OFF THAT HOSE!" My mother hollered.

I waited until she wasn't at the door anymore, then quickly took a drink and handed the hose to my brother. Then we ran back to our playing.

Note: This is a melding of every single summer day that my brother and I spent playing together. Yes, we actually did have fights like that, but we never actually ever hurt each other. Except once or twice. Maybe three times.

My Brother is a Genius

My brother is younger than me, and when we were kids we used to have a lot of fistfights. Knockdown, dragout fights. Mostly we fought because he insisted on touching my Donny Osmond albums, which at the time was tantamount to invading a small country as a criminal event. Even today, the one person who can find and push my BIG RED BUTTON is my brother. Sometimes he does it just for fun, but it's a sibling thing, I guess. We can go out of our way to torture each other, but we are not okay with anyone else trying to do the same. I can remember times when we were growing up where someone would pick on me and my brother would jump in the middle of it all. I did the same for him. It's a good feeling to know that no matter what happens, your brother has your back.

So the other day I called my brother to talk to him about an issue I was having with someone at work. I guess I expected him to commiserate with me, at least a little, but what I really expected was for him to help me solve my problem. Because that's what he's good at. My brother can size up a business situation quickly and give you a solution to the issue, whatever that issue is. You may not like the answer, because part of your problem might be YOU. We are often the authors of a number of our own problems, and this was the case for me. I have come to terms with the fact that my number one vice is pride, although most of the time I ignore that, and this time my problem at work boiled down to my pigheadedness and pride. My brother immediately pointed this out to me, and told me what I needed to do to fix my problem. The solution involved me approaching the person I had an issue with and talking to them about it. So simple, yet so difficult, because of my pride.

It took everything for me to open up and talk to the person at work, but I was glad that I did. So I need to give credit where it is due. My brother is a genius. Unless he tries touching my Donny Osmond albums. Then I'll probably haul off and slug him. :)