At the age of five, I was no longer the youngest child. Any child would be ecstatic to be an older sibling, to have someone to play with. As soon as my parents informed me, I immediately asked if it was a girl. I begged them to have a girl so I could have a best friend. My father knelt down to my level and told me I was going to have a little brother. Devastated, I ran to my room and cried for days until I had to accept it.
Five months later my little brother was born. My older sisters and I could not wait to meet him, specifically me. My father wanted me to be the first of my siblings to meet my new brother. I remember walking down the hallway, holding tightly onto my father’s hand when he told me my brother looked different. My young mind did not understand, nor did I ever question it. We entered the room and there was my mother in a hospital gown holding her newborn son.
I was lifted up onto the hospital bed and sat down beside her. Upon looking at the baby in her arms, my heart sunk into my stomach. This baby looked nothing like me, he was pale with blonde hair. I was a dark brunette with my father’s coloring. Tears were pouring down my face when I had asked my mother why she had not made me pale too. I shoved myself into my father’s arms as he explained my mother had no control over how babies would come out. Nevertheless, I was saddened how different he appeared compared to me. Over the years as he grew, his hair slowly darkened into a light brown. Though his skin remained the same color. He was adored immensely throughout our whole family. My young self would see the way my sisters and father bonded with my brother. They would give him their undivided attention, to the point where I felt as if I needed to fight for their attention.
Throughout the years my brother and I would fight for our parents’ attention. I envied the way he got it so easily, I envied him. Slowly that envy turned to hatred. I would pretend to not understand my schoolwork to have my mother’s attention for a while. That plan seemed to work until she would ask my sisters to help me instead.
As I got older, the less I longed for my parents’ attention, I had learned to keep myself company. In doing so, I rarely bonded with my family. Most days were spent in my room, hanging out with a close friend. Her and I would avoid my brother at all costs, she saw him as a boy with “cooties.” I, however, saw him as the boy that took my parents from me. We were quick to close my bedroom door when we would hear his small footsteps.
When that friend had moved away, I was essentially alone again. My little brother saw that as his turn to try to hang out with me. He had no idea of the hatred I bore for him. How much that little boy adored me, and I wanted nothing to do with him. While I was cooped up in my room, he would cry to my mother. Asking her why I never wanted to spend time with him. Slowly, but surely, he tried to gain my attention by always bringing me assortments of candy. He would sneak into the kitchen late at night and fill up a paper bag of my favorite candies.
At first, it didn’t work. I would be quick to shove him out of my bedroom. He cried one day, so to avoid my parents waking up, I allowed him to stay in my room. Overtime, I would always wait to hear his small footsteps walk towards my bedroom door. I would jump out of bed and open that door with a smile on my face. We would sit in my bed for hours, giggling as we tried to not wake our parents down the hall.
He quickly became my best friend that year. That little boy and I were inseparable since then. If anything were to happen, we would cry to each other instead of our parents. At any family gathering, we made sure we were sat next to each other. To this day, that little boy remains my number one person. While our five-year age gap does cause a rift from time to time, he makes sure to understand.
I spent eight years resenting my brother for something he had no power over. Eight years ago, I might’ve explained how his birth was the worst thing to ever happen. Unbeknownst to me, years later that boy would be my whole world.