Circa 1995. I was ~7, he was ~2. Being wild in the old house.
2003. I was 14, he was 9. Birthday party for someone, not us.
2003 again. This was us coming back from Kansas the first time...this picture is very sentimental to both of us because that's how we felt...always coming and going by the whims of our parents and the courts.
My little brother is someone for which I would take a bullet right to the head. He isn't just my sibling, he used to be the only person who felt, saw and understood what I was going through.
-I was five years old when my mom told me she was pregnant and having a baby. I was six years old when he was born. Little S, who I frequently called "Bubby" as a child (and I was "Sissy"), was a small, wormy looking thing. I got to wear a gown and hold him in the hospital. I remember being fascinated by him, and at the same time being scared that my parents would love him more than me since he was so little and cute.
S as a baby.
- My fondest memories of my little brother...I do think they were when we were in elementary school. I was in 5th grade when he was kindergarten, and this meant that while we were far apart in age, we got to be in the same school one year. During this year, my parents entrusted me to watch over him and make sure he got on the bus twice a day and walked home with me. The bus stop was where we threw banana peels from our breakfast into the street, halfheartedly waiting for cars to run over them and slip and slide down the hill.
Circa 1998. I was 10, he was 5. This is us with my Girl Scout Troop, and yes my mom is the lady standing behind me. He would often accompany us on GS stuff because my mom was the troop leader. He even came to Girl Scout camp with me every summer.
- I also remember getting out of class a few minutes early to help the Special Ed teachers get their students to the buses, and how I would go ahead and climb upon my bus, taking the very last seat on the right. The last seat in the bus was a half-seat of sorts, but it was just the right size for me and S to fit. The smile on his face, the way he lit up when his blue eyes found mine sitting in the back, is something that I reflect upon with a lot of calm contentment. I'd like to think that those little things, just even being able to always have a welcome place to sit on the bus, made his Kindergarten year a little easier and a little happier. Then, we would walk home together and I would usually make him something simple for a snack. Every day, we were together at the beginning and the end.
2000. I was 12 and he was 7. This was on a cheap outing to Illinois to visit my stepmom's parents. Yes, that is my dad to the left.
- I volunteered in the library in the mornings. I would come in at 8:00 am on the bus and instead of going to the gym like most of the kids, I would go to the library to "warm it up" as you would say. I turned on all the lights and computers, scanned in books and reshelved. I absolutely loved the library. When my brother started attending school there with me in 5th grade, he came with me every morning. I would push the stool over to lights and let him climb up and flip them on, illuminating the room little by little. We would walk around and turn on all the computers, me supervising his little hands pushing the power buttons on the CPUs and monitors.
2010. Age 17. Playing Beer Pong in my parents' basement.
- Toward the end of 5th grade, one of my teachers asked me to judge Young Authors' books for the county division...that same day. My dad was working construction, and almost every time it rained, he would stay home due to the nature of the job. On the day I was asked to help judge, it was raining. I tried to call home around lunchtime, but nobody answered the phone. Using the limited deductive reasoning I had at age 11, I figured that my dad had to be home because it was raining and he wasn't answering the phone because it was after lunch and he was taking an afternoon nap. So I sent my 6 year old brother home to an empty house...without even so much as giving him the house key. Fortunately, nothing bad happened and he was discovered sitting in our backyard crying by the neighbor, who took him to his house until my parents got home. This is something he still gives me hell about to this day.
Summer 2009. I'm 21 and he's 16. At my mom's house in Texas.
- When my parents divorced, they did an awesome job of being immature and bickering in front of me and S. My dad liked to call my mama a whore who cheated on him (the part after the 'who' is correct) and my mom liked to say my dad was an asshole that yelled at her (and this is 100% accurate)....you know, definitely the kind of information that you discuss with your 11 year old daughter and your 5 year old son. My little brother is the only person I could count on seeing everyday from the time I was 11 until I started staying over at A's place at 17 years old. Because of this, we became extremely close.
Summer 2007. At Kings' Island. I'm 19 and he's 14.
- I'm totally a bad influence on my brother. I remember the first time he asked, and subsequently the first time we got high together. He was 15 and way too young to begin smoking. Then again, he had already started smoking cigarettes. So much for prevention in Kentucky, where tobacco is king.
Thanksgiving 2006. I am 18 and he is 13. At my cousin's old house.
- I was on my way to work when my dad called my cell phone and told me S was in jail. "Excuse me? Is this a joke?" "No, he's really in jail honey." Our conversation went to reveal that S has told someone on his bus a plan for a Columbine-esque plot where he would put bombs around the school, use my dad's guns to "blow people away" and such. One of the people in the conversation told her parents, who reported it to the school and he was arrested the next week for "terroristic threatening". My dad thought it wasn't a big deal to leave him in jail and made no moves to get an attorney, and I flipped my shit. I called my mom and cried my eyes out to her about what was going on, begging and pleading with her to get him a fucking lawyer. At work, my face was made of stone. I couldn't have smiled or said hello if I had tried. My manager finally was able to get someone else to come in for me so I could go home and sort everything out.
According to S later, he didn't mean it and it was said in confidence to a friend to vent his frustration. However, I know as well as anyone that threats like that need to be taken seriously. The DA wanted to throw the book at him. There was a pit in my stomach when we entered the court room and saw S walk out in shackles, standing behind the podium on the left side of the room. How surreal. I didn't even try to fight back tears when the judge acknowledged the support for S, then dismissed me from the court room along with my grandfather, aunt and uncle.
I cried, I blamed myself for leaving the house too soon, for abandoning him when I knew he needed me. In the end, since he was a first time offender who had no concrete planning, only threats, he was allowed to come home while he awaited trial and had to be on house arrest. He was given probation to be served in three 3-hour courses and on house arrest for 2 months. He's a good kid.
And, as I'm typing this out, he sends me an awesome picture on Facebook chat:
I love him. So, so much. I don't think my life would be the same without him.
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