That's how I found out that I would no longer be the youngest child in our family. Mom wasn't misdiagnosed, but there was a baby inhabiting her personal space as well as the cyst. I don't remember much about her pregnancy, but I do remember watching her and my dad drive off to the hospital. She was wearing a bright orange terry cloth bathrobe. Snapshots from childhood are odd things.
A few days later, my folks came home bearing a little baby with a wrinkled up forehead and introduced him as my new brother. Of course, the older brother, Ming, was ecstatic! I didn't really care that it made me the only girl between the boys, and I thought having a baby around would be pretty cool. And it was. Even when he did the typical baby things like messing all over everyone with the typical baby emissions.
He was a pretty cool little kid. Before we knew it, he was as wide as he was tall, with a triple E shoe width and a Brylcreem comb over. Even though my brothers were 10 years apart, they were always pretty tight. Ming didn't even get upset when little brother kneed him in the eye for stealing his favorite blankie. Though Ming didn't take it quite so well when little brother broke all the wheels off his model cars.
Little bro came to be affectionately called "Bunns." Or "Buns" or "Bunz" depending on who was writing it. He referred to himself as "BNPN". I remember him coming home from kindergarten one day insisting that was his name and that was how it was written. He was quite adamant about it. He has since learned the proper spelling for his name, but it's quite common to get things from him signed "BNPN" even to this day.
I spent a fair amount of time with my little brother. We played outside a good bit, and often walked together to the market around the corner. My mom started working in a card shop near the market when we were kids, and often after school we would walk over there just to check in.
By the time little bro had grown into his pre-teen years, he had begun to develop a pretty wicked wit. And it was that wit that spelled the end of one of my most prized possessions. One day while walking to the market around the corner, he was doing a little good natured teasing. And because I had no comeback, I did the next logical thing and smacked him on the shoulder with my favorite hairbrush.
I can't tell you why I was even carrying it. My hair was long and straight so I didn't spend much time on it in those days, and I never carried a brush with me. But this particular day I had it in my hand and it was the only weapon with which to retaliate. And so as he laughed, I smacked his shoulder, and as if it happened in slow motion, my favorite brush broke in two and the business end crashed to the sidewalk. The air rushed from my lungs as if pulled out by a vacuum. I was crushed. It was the coolest brush ever, and it's demise only resulted in making Bunns laugh harder. Little creep.
Life moved on. The hairbrush ended up in the trash. Little brother was already taller than me when "he broke my brush", and soars to even greater heights now. His wit has mellowed and I've worked hard at moving past this enormous loss. It was blue, you know? The hairbrush. It was blue.
Behold,
how good and how pleasant it is
for brothers to dwell together
in unity!
Ps. 133:1
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