you're like a brother to me
I remember sitting in the back seat of the car with my brother.
We drove my parents crazy. Sharing the armrest was out of question for the us, so we would fight for it until one of us was bitten or punched by the other.
And when I turned 16, and came back from a year in Ireland, things changed and I was finally at the age when we could be friends.
We used to drive home from school in his old Jetta, music blaring, the back seats filled with binders and garbage. We would go get food, pick up groceries, stop at the mall.
We’d cook dinners together, always with passion and plenty of garlic.
We would sit out on the deck at night, smoking, drinking, him strumming away at his guitar. I still can’t think of a more comforting sound than his voice singing Howie Day or Jack Johnson.
One night we went and visited our older brother downtown for dinner. On the bus home we ran into one of his friends. When she found out what we’d been doing that night she asked, “You mean, you guys actually like hanging out together?”
Another night we went to the same party, a mixture of his friends and a few of mine. He spilt red wine all over my white t-shirt, and we spent half the night together laughing and talking to friends.
He drove to get my learner’s license for my third try, when I finally succeeded.
When he moved downtown I visited every weekend in his large artist’s apartment. When the building had an open house he let me sing like a fool and play his keyboard as people walked through his place to see his artwork.
I have always felt alive around my brother. He is artistic, talented, passionate and has unique ideas. He can cook, sing, paint, and throw together the most beautiful graphic designs you can imagine in minutes.
Now that he’s living outside Toronto I escape to visit him whenever I can. It makes life more bearable knowing he’s only a train ride away. That all it takes is us getting together to cook dinner for me to feel at home again.
Today is his birthday, so I’m hoping to come down sometime soon to celebrate. For now I just hope he knows how much I love him, admire him, and would want to be his friend even if we weren’t blood related.
We drove my parents crazy. Sharing the armrest was out of question for the us, so we would fight for it until one of us was bitten or punched by the other.
And when I turned 16, and came back from a year in Ireland, things changed and I was finally at the age when we could be friends.
We used to drive home from school in his old Jetta, music blaring, the back seats filled with binders and garbage. We would go get food, pick up groceries, stop at the mall.
We’d cook dinners together, always with passion and plenty of garlic.
We would sit out on the deck at night, smoking, drinking, him strumming away at his guitar. I still can’t think of a more comforting sound than his voice singing Howie Day or Jack Johnson.
One night we went and visited our older brother downtown for dinner. On the bus home we ran into one of his friends. When she found out what we’d been doing that night she asked, “You mean, you guys actually like hanging out together?”
Another night we went to the same party, a mixture of his friends and a few of mine. He spilt red wine all over my white t-shirt, and we spent half the night together laughing and talking to friends.
He drove to get my learner’s license for my third try, when I finally succeeded.
When he moved downtown I visited every weekend in his large artist’s apartment. When the building had an open house he let me sing like a fool and play his keyboard as people walked through his place to see his artwork.
I have always felt alive around my brother. He is artistic, talented, passionate and has unique ideas. He can cook, sing, paint, and throw together the most beautiful graphic designs you can imagine in minutes.
Now that he’s living outside Toronto I escape to visit him whenever I can. It makes life more bearable knowing he’s only a train ride away. That all it takes is us getting together to cook dinner for me to feel at home again.
Today is his birthday, so I’m hoping to come down sometime soon to celebrate. For now I just hope he knows how much I love him, admire him, and would want to be his friend even if we weren’t blood related.
posted by Gillian Young at 12:54 AM
4 Comments:
What a sweet way to honor your brother. My brother's birthday was yesterday and I was feeling much the same about him... feeling extremely grateful for how much we appreciate and enjoy one another. Wishing him a very happy birthday. No doubt he feels extremely grateful to have you in his life as well!
Cheers,
B.
As always, a wonderful tribute! You have a gift for this, sharing special moments about all those precious to you and putting them out for the world to see. I miss my brothers back home, especially my older brother, as we've gotten a bit closer over time. The distance is really hard sometimes, when I know I can't just get in a car and go see him. Ah, the life of an expat!
Awesome, it's good to see siblings not try to kill each other. I sometimes wish I was a bit nicer to my sister. She's moved to the states now and I only see her once a year.
I love hanging with my brother too (though the distance to Australia makes it difficult!).
Happy birthday.
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