holding my pinky as we cross the street

to my younger brother, with all the love an older brother can muster.

you know, when I think of you

i cry.

did you know?

probably not, I suppose. i've always tried to be a good example for you, a man to look up to

and in our household being a man meant to hold in tears and never show fears. 

truth be told though, i always feared to lose you and we both knew i cried in my sleep and 

you were afraid of the dark.

and of aliens. but as your honorary story-teller, i take full responsibility for your fear of alien abduction.

oops.

hey, do you remember throwing pumpkin guts onto the neighbors house that one time?

we had carved our pumpkins on Devils' Night and we had all that squishy, orange pumpkin guts 

all over the the dining room table...
so 

we got little plastic sandwich bags, and filled them full

with orange pumpkin innards, sour cream

and just about anything and everything else we thought might gross out the neighbors;
(really, only one neighbor in particular; the only one on our block to not celebrate Halloween)
if I remember it correctly, we also added purple grapes.

why the hell did we add purple grapes?

whose idea was this whole thing? i can't rightly remember. but then again, the best ideas always were a collage of my wit, your recklessness and our combined creativity 

and curiosity. i'm surprised any cats ever survived

with the two of us around. 

hey. do you remember when we had to share a bunk bed in a single room? you wouldn't remember, but it was a welcomed and improved change from what we were given in foster care.

but anything is better than a broken down cardboard box on a cold, hard, unforgiving wooden floor.

i've slept on many a-floor, and I can tell you, that bunk bed was a blessing.

you couldn't take the top bunk though, because mum was afraid you would roll over and fall right off of it one night

so i took the top. you took the bottom.

there's just so much symbolism to that sentiment; mum not caring if i fell off from the top and got hurt

and making sure you never had the risk of falling in the first place.

but that didn't stop you from climbing up to my top bunk in the middle of the night to wake me up, did it?

oh, no.

"do you think there are other people on other planets in other universes far, far away?" this was a much revisited question. like clockwork. you'd ask me this every week, in the middle of the night. never during the day. i'm astonished you never became an astronomer.

we would talk about other things though, as well. vowing never to let anything get between us

believing us to be so close to one another that we were, really, nigh inseparable. 

at the time I suppose we were, weren't we.

inseparable, I mean. joined at the hip. partners in crime.

best friends.

but 

out of all the memories I have of you

of us

of;

our adventures in the woods 

and basketball games in the courts by Beth Shalom cemetery and 

building hot-wheels tracks that started from our room upstairs and ended near the kitchen, downstairs

and 

fighting over who's turn it was to play the nintendo, and our parents buying us boxing gloves for when we would fight over

 

whose turn it was to play the damn nintendo.

of summers spent playing outside all day from sun-up to sun-down and then just laying back in the cool grass and pondering the stars above us

but only after we stole vegetables from the neighbors gardens to roast on the fire we built to cook them on.

goddamn, we were trouble makers, weren't we?

but out of all the memories I have of you

of us

there is one in particular that shines brighter to me than any star you and I had ever seen while camping out those summers. it's a memory you may not remember, for it was something you would do when you were just a small child at my side, looking up to me for all the answers

expecting me to always protect you.

you see, whenever we had to cross a road or go through a crowd, you would automatically grab my hand

but you wouldn't actually grab my hand; 

no

you'd wrap your little fingers around my pinky and hold tight because your hands were so small compared to mine and somehow you felt safe just holding my pinky. i think this is such a vivid memory for me partially because i, in truth, loved being your protector, but mostly because i think that is when we were the most inseparable. i mean, joined at the hip, partners in crime

best friends.

it is such a strong memory for me because it is the last time i can remember that you didn't hate me for something

there's only love in that memory. 

and, i know, i am to blame for some of that hate but if i ever told you i hated you

i was lying to both you and myself and 

part of me always hoped that when you told me you hated me that you, too

were lying to both me

and yourself.

and if you felt like i abandoned you when i joined the marine corps, i'm sorry

it wasn't you i was abandoning,

it was myself i was trying to run away from 

that,

and our adoptive parents; particularly our vigorously dehumanizing, emotionally abusive and unstable

b***h and bully of a mother

and yes

i left you there and i am sorry and you're right

i did abandon you

and you hated me for it and you still hate me for it, 

among other things, as i am sure you have a full list of reasons of why you hate me and i wish you would forgive me

and i think you still hate me

but you could never hate me as much

as i hated myself

and you can never hate me as much as i know you

hate yourself. and

we are grown now.

it took me to the age of 26 to finally begin to love myself. 

you're turning 26 soon and i hope you, too, will start to love yourself

as much as i love you.

as much as i've always loved you.

you know, when I think of you
i cry.

because i know how it feels to hate yourself

because you and i have always had so much in common even though i tried to keep all my pain and heart break away from you and in my head you are somehow still just the little boy beside me

holding my pinky as we cross the street

how were you to know you were also holding my heart in the palm of your hand?

Reviews

[The Purple Witch]

(wipes away tears) This is beautiful. I have five younger brothers and in my early years, I wasn't too nice to them. As time passed, I learned to be a better person and sister to them. I have fond memories of when they were babies and they'd hold my index finger in their tiny fists while sleeping. Your poem touches my heart deeply. (applauds) Bravo, mate. :D

[J. B.]

I am glad this touched you like this. this was one of those pieces i was up all night thinking about.

[The Purple Witch]

Those are the best ones. :)

[Malvika]

You have written it beautifully , those raw emotions made me cry and I as I read I started to analyse my own relationship with my brother and realised I never give him the attention he wants , thank you for this amazing piece it made me realise my own mistakes. Again its a great write:)

[J. B.]

thank you so much for reading, and i am happy it touched you that way

[Malvika]

Your welcome!!