Brothers and Sisters

One thing that I can confidently say has always been true of me is that I deeply love my brothers and sister.

That's not to say that we didn't fight, because we did. Some of the fights my older brother and I had as children feel legendary.

And that's not to say that I always liked my brothers and sister, because there have been moments I certainly have not.

But even when we fought, and even when I had days where I didn't like them, I wouldn't stand to hear anyone else say anything bad about them. After all, they were mine. Part of my family, and while it was understood and even expected for me to get angry and fight with them, the best way to make me mad was to talk badly about my brothers or sister, whether it was deserved or not. And, on the whole, we didn't fight that much. Especially me and my younger brother and sister. We played and enjoyed each other and life was good.

I have one older brother and until I was four, it was just us. I only have a few memories before my second brother was born, and they are all tiny snippets-- playing on the beach, finding a baby bird, playing with a toy dinosaur. There are lots of pictures from that era though, and I love looking at them.

I was four years old when my baby brother was born, and I have fuzzy memories of going to the hospital to see him for the first time. I didn't really understand what was happening, but I had been told that we were getting a new baby, which would resemble my favorite doll. I remember feeling cheated when I saw him. I was confused and a little outraged. He looked nothing like my doll! He was big, almost as big as I was, and he had so much black hair on his head! I distinctly remember looking at him and wanting to ask my Meme why they put a big boy in with all of the new babies.

My initial shock gave way to a very deep love for my little brother. He was very sweet, and I was very protective. I remember yelling at a Sunday school teacher once when she was impatient with him. I remember righteous anger when I ended up being the one who got in trouble with my parents and not her-- after all, she was the one being mean, not me.

Halloween with my brothers

I have many memories of my two brothers and I playing outside and getting dirty and playing army games.



I was a typical tomboy and my favorite outfit to wear was a pair of my brothers hand-me-down jeans, no shirt or shoes, with war paint (lipstick) covering as much of me as I could manage, and a couple of haphazard braids in my hair to complete the effect I was going for-- Indian princess.

As much as I loved my brothers, I felt that it was wrong for me to not have a sister too. One should always have a sister. I remember telling my mom one night as she tucked me into bed that we needed another girl. When she didn't respond particularly enthusiastically to the idea of another baby, I saw that I would have to go over her head in this matter, so I told her that I was going to pray for a sister every day until I got one. I wanted a sister badly, and this prayer became part of my nightly ritual.

I think I had been expecting it when my mom and dad announced that they had been surprised by a fourth pregnancy-- this time with a little girl!

I remember carefully picking out the outfit I wanted to wear to the hospital when it was time to meet my new sister. After all, one really must make a good first impression. I believe I picked out a gypsy vagabond outfit which my grandmother immediately nixed in favor of something drab and boring and hospital appropriate. My brothers and I went and met my very small, very pink sister, and I immediately knew we were going to get on splendidly, despite the fact that she did not stop crying her first week of existence.

I remember sneaking her into my room when she was still an infant and dressing her up in my play clothes and jewelry like she was a doll that had come to life.

As the four of us grew older we played "lost kids" and "house" and "war" and got into all kinds of trouble together. We fought and laughed and imagined and grew.


I love being a sister. It has always been important to me that my siblings and I be there for each other and love each other well, which I think we have done, and which has grown easier as we have grown older.

I love getting to live with my older brother, and I miss my younger brother and sister very much. I think the thing that I love the most about sisterhood is the security and finality of it. I will be there no matter what happens. Never perfect, but always there. I really don't think any circumstances can change that.

I remember when I was a little girl thinking about how there were good brothers and sisters who were friendly and kind and loving, and there were bad brothers and sisters, who were cruel and cutting. I remember very clearly thinking it over and deciding that I was going to be the good kind. I haven't always been as kind and loving as I should have been, but in general, I think I've done alright.

My brothers and sister are a huge part of who I am today. I love them and hope that we can always be the kinds of siblings that are also friends, who love and uplift each other, and who are always there to share the burden when life gets hard.

They are a piece of me that is good, and I will carry them forward with me to keep me strong.