Dudes, I’m about to put my heart out here. Not that my other posts aren’t revealing.. but this is something I normally carry so close I don’t let anyone in except my closest friends. With that being said..
My brother sent me a Facebook message last night. My brother who I have adored since I can remember sent me a message and you would have thought that Donnie Wahlberg had just admitted that the classic NKOTB song “Cover Girl” was really about me. You’d have to know back story that I am not willing to get into to fully understand why we don’t talk as much as I’d like (every day-us stay at home moms have got time to spare); but that’s not important right now. What is important is that he reminded me of some stories tonight from when we were younger.
My brother once convinced me to give him my ratty old paper money in exchange for shiny copper coins. After all, the value of money is determined by its shininess, right?
My brother once took me to a music store where he promised to buy me a Madonna tape.. then talked me down to just getting the single.. then talked me down to getting a button. I left that store with a Madonna button. I had to sing “Cherish” from memory and acapella. It was fabulous.
My brother once let me sleep in and did all of my chores for me. When our mother got home and he ratted on me she gave him all of my allowance money. That extra few hours of sleep was expensive, eh?
My brother once took me to the mall where our grandparents lived and bought me a jewelry box. It was turquoise and had a teddy bear that spun around and played music when you opened the box. He paid extra to have my name painted on it. From the same store he also bought me a tiny pink gumball machine with the same teddy bear as the jewelry box; he paid extra for my name to be painted on that, too.
He took me to Wet ‘n’ Wild and taught me that I should stay single and celibate (because men are pigs, women are worse, and nuns get pregnant).
I’m reminded of Romans 8:28: “. . . all things work together for the good. . .” There’s more to the verse than that and I encourage you to read it. But I’m not getting into that tonight. All of these memories worked together for good: those things that once brought pain or embarrassment worked together with those things that brought joy and giggles. We once watched a horror movie together (I had been told to go to sleep… I didn’t) and it scared me so badly that I couldn’t fall asleep; so my big brother put on a funny movie to help me sleep and he may have even stayed up with me.. I get fuzzy on that part. That scary movie was overcome by something good and funny (I think it was a John Candy movie. Why do I remember the most inane things?). Those things that were once not so good pale in comparison and even work to make the good memories that much sweeter. I love how life was intended to work that way: for good and not evil, for us to have courage and happiness over fear and depression.
If you read this, big brother, I love you and I’m proud that you’re mine.