I Have A Brother?
I don’t really remember a lot about him. I don’t remember him living with us, but I assume he did at one point because he had his own bedroom. All together I have four memories of him. One was when he was visiting one day when I was about 4 or 5. He let me help him wash his car and I remember sitting in it and think that it was really low to the ground. Two was in the great room when he tried to teach me how to spin a basketball on my finger. Three was when I was at the mall with my mom and we saw him at his job. Four was the last time I saw him.
It was at the annual Christmas Eve party that always took place at wherever my grandma happened to be living that year. This year was when she was living with one of my aunts in a townhouse. I remember a different aunt that was pregnant with one of my cousins that year, which means I was 10 at the time. My brother walked in the door and talked to a couple people and then he got to my dad. They started to walk towards the back door and I tried to follow because I hadn’t seen him in so long. Someone stopped me though and told me to leave them because they needed to talk. After that though he left the party and I haven’t seen or talked to him since.
That was almost 10 years ago now, and now I’m just friends with him on Facebook. We still haven’t talked though; I mostly just Facebook stalk him. I know a lot of people would tell me to just send him a Facebook message, but he’s moved on with his life. He’s been to college, and moved, and gotten married.
As much as I would like to send that Facebook message to him, I won’t. He doesn’t need a reminder of the argument he had with my dad that ultimately pushed him away. He seems happy and doesn’t need me to intrude on his new life. Some people may think I’m being stupid, but hey, I’m 19, I’m still entitled to a few more stupid teenage mistakes.
Anon enjoys burying her feelings underneath copious amounts of sarcasm and hopes to one day have enough cats to forget about her problems.