You call me Mom, and you don't mean it in an endearing way. You're two seconds away from hurting me and putting me in my place. If we were younger, you'd chase me through the house until I found refuge behind a locked door, breathing heavily and knowing I'd narrowly escaped your wrath. Later, I'd come out and we'd play Matchbox cars in the basement and pretend that I never upset you. We'd create a city with stores and parking lots. Or we'd use your blanket - the one with the bright colored map full of winding roads. No need to invite friends over; we had each other. We liked each other. We agreed that riding bikes was fun. Saturday morning cartoons were easy to wake up for. Whole grain cereals tasted better with sugar on top. And snow trails in the backyard were the best part about winter. We were playmates as long as you didn't misbehave or do something stupid. Then I became Big Sister. Or as you call me, Mom.
It's because I read you books when you sat in your swing. It's because I knew you when you couldn't pronounce "ketchup" and "ice cream" (which by the way are two very important words). It's because I remember when you still wet the bed every night. And, let's be honest, it's because I can't keep my comments to myself.
One day at the bike racks in elementary school, the biggest kid in my class haughtily mocked your bike riding hobby, and I can still recall the rate at which my blood pressure rose. I dug my nails deep into both of his arms breaking skin and making him bleed and put my love for you behind a powerful kick to his shin. (Which left a bruise by the way.)
And that's how I still feel about you. I hate when people hurt you. I want you to ride your bike, do what makes you happy. And if you do it with a helmet on, I won't have to be Mom. But no matter what, I'll be at the bike racks loving you.
6 comments:
This post is so cute! This is so how I feel about my little brother -- who, I might add, is 22 and a mere 13 months and 12 days younger than me. And about 5 inches taller (hey, he's at least 6'2"!).
It's funny you wrote this, because I was just talking to my new boss the other day about him. I've always acted motherly with him. When we were little and someone was mean to him, I cried. Once I got older, I would get mad about it and fix it. I have to restrain myself from sending nasty e-mails to girls who don't treat him right. I have to tell myself that's crossing the line and that he can handle it himself.
And he also calls me Mom sometimes -- but not in an endearing way. :)
But the cool thing is that sometimes I'm the only one who can get through to him (although I do hope another girl comes along someday who can beat even me on that -- as long as I don't have to send her a nasty e-mail). :)
this is sweet. not as deep as i expected. but it is good.
that's such a sweet post!
Wow this was great. This is how I feel about my sisters. With one getting married in less than 28 days I am sure I will be crying the whole with time. Her and I have become such great friends in the last few years that I treasure it so much. Thanks for sharing such a great post.
Wow - what a great post. :) Now I have to call my sister, because I miss her.
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