I sit at the foot of his giant water bed glaring at the bright red digital clock with tired, droopy eyes, waiting for it to finally display the time I’ve been waiting for, 12:00 a.m. When I peer outside the window, I can barely make out our cul de sac in the dead of night, but when I slowly lift my head I can quite clearly see the trees swaying to the music of the wind and the moon shining with borrowed light from the sun. Blossom Drive ? the name of our street. We have been living in a spacious, inviting house at the very end of the opening of this child-friendly cul de sac for over 15 years now yet it has never felt old. Home is always home. I keep waiting. In just a couple more minutes, the date would switch from November 25th to November 26th.

So? Well, November 26th is a significant day for my family and me; it’s the date that marks the “game-changing” day my not-so-much-anymore baby brother was born. My relationship with my brother is completely unlike any other, and by other I mean the ones filled with occasional fights yet love deep down like a dry, barren wasteland with gallons of water maybe even miles below the surface but still there, or the ones with the siblings getting along and having each other’s backs, supporting each other.
For the past few weeks, I had been reserving time to carve out a story, not just any story, but one about how our relationship came to be and what led up to the way we treat each other today. My eyes brim with tears as I think about our relationship. I don’t like that word. It seems so bossy and bold, demanding attention instead of having a soothing, soft, and calming effect like a warm summer breeze that should ideally wrap around me and reflect a somewhat safe aura. I zone out for a couple seconds so lost in my musings but am zapped back to reality when I see a bright flash of color coming from the alarm clock out of the corner of my eye and I realize that it’s 12:00 a.m.
With trembling hands, I touch my brother’s shoulder lightly. He pushes it off and rolls to the side but then strikes into a sitting position with wide eyes somehow completely alert when he hears me call his name. He takes one glance at me and runs out the door with Niagara Falls practically streaming out of his eyes. I am not surprised. It was, in fact, expected. I follow him out but by this point my mom and dad have come out of the room and are holding Shayne in their arms cradling him like he was just born yesterday repeatedly asking him what was wrong. Then they look up and meet eyes with me. The wires in their brain begin to turn and click, and a long period of silence was broken when Mom quietly whispered, “Oh. I see. Umm, it’s ok honey. It’s ok. It’s ok.” Then without even thinking about it I just start talking and carefully begin the story I want to tell him cautiously letting word after word stream out of my mouth with a hope of helping Shayne understand.
“I was three,” I begin, “I lived in a charming house in an enchanting community with two enormous parks, fountains everywhere, huge acres of grass to go strolling in the evenings with loved ones, and great neighbors. Four words: love, attention, space, and fantasy. I received tons of love and concern and back then it was as if there was an intoxicating potion in the air relaxing me, calming me, soothing me. I was pretty much a Disney princess living in a majestic heaven with beautiful gracefully floating pink clouds absorbing a glorious bold castle with flying fairies dancing around ready to serve me at all times. I didn’t feel deprived of anything whatsoever; I thought that my life was perfect. I was wrong, and that truth started to unfold as the years crept by.”
I paus trying to let that all sink in. Then, before anyone can interrupt I clear my throat and continue. 
“I was seven,” I say. “I was lonely. I was being bullied. I needed someone by me, someone to catch me if I fell, someone to be there for me to rant to, someone who would understand everything I was going through and help me through it, someone who would be the beat to my life’s song. During those days, I had no idea my wish was going to be answered. I also didn’t know that I wouldn’t exactly be feeling the way I was then about it at all.”
By this point, I am practically shaking with nervous energy. Without meeting eyes with anyone I just kept going.
“I was nine,” I continue. ‘I think I’m pregnant,’ Mom had shakily whispered one day. The room had begun to spin, and I practically had lost my grip on life as I slowly tried to take in what I had just heard. My heart had begun to beat with an alive pulse and my aura refused to reflect anything but pure happiness. I began to release all my energy by screaming with a powerful voice while dancing around the island in our kitchen with my dad. I couldn’t sit still for hours. These hours soon turned into days and the days turned into weeks and soon enough full months flew by. As you began to take form and develop in Mom’s body, my thoughts were joining you. There was a battle going on inside my head as I tried to figure out what I wanted until one day the storm finally subsided.”
I manage to take a glance at Shayne. He is frozen still, but it's obvious he wants me to go on. So I do.
“‘Uggh!’ I had cried one day as I barged into my bedroom and slammed the door shut with a loud whack. I had reached my breaking point. None of my old friends were in my class this year and, therefore, I joined a new friend group and now my old one was being so rude and getting so angry that I wasn’t hanging out with them. On top of that there was the sibling problem (a huge understatement). Then as I sat freakishly still on my bed in a quiet atmosphere, I was able to think things through with a somewhat clear mind. I wasn’t happy with the fact that there was going to be a new addition to our family, instead, I was nervous.  A million questions were swimming through my brain. What if I wasn’t a good role model? What if I didn’t love my new sibling enough? What if I would feel left out or unwanted?”
“I was ten and three quarters. My body quivered furiously and it felt as though a tornado had taken over me as I stood trembling behind the curtains. Room 19C: a simple room with lightly colored wooden cabinets, a stainless steel sink surrounded by a granite countertop, tiled floor, a crib on the far side with a bunch of medical equipment, and right in the center a bed where my mother lay screaming in agony while I stood helpless, blocked by a massive piece of cloth. Even though the giant tan curtains obscured my vision, there was no problem with my hearing. My ears were being tormented with my mother’s groaning and the screaming of both the doctor and the nurses. It was 3:51 in the morning at the El Camino Hospital and on one side of the curtain something that would change my life completely was slowly beginning to take shape while on the other side there I was clenching back gallons of tears. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that I couldn’t bear to hear, see, or feel my loved one ones in pain. The room started to spin and soon enough my body was matted to the giant reclining sofa as I attempted to dissolve my pain in deep slumber.
It didn’t work. I was still fully conscious of everything. Every breath, every beep of the monitors, every twitch of the lights. Every part of my body was twitching with nervous energy and part of me wanted to run out the door screaming while trying to release all the emotions churning inside me, but a bigger part kept me glued to the floor right where I was probably out of fear or even shock. Along with the monitors, doctors, nurses, and my mom suddenly a new sound added into the chorus. It was the wailing of a baby. In a way, my baby. I willed myself to push aside the curtains that had kept me away for so long and the first thing I saw was the clock displaying 3:55 a.m. As my eyes continued to make its way over to my brother, it met another obstacle: my dad’s face. It was hard to read, but one fact stood out very clearly, he was nervous. The joy was also visible, but it was like a there was a veil of anxiety covering it. Then I moved my eyes and let my field of vision engulf the little baby on the side.
That’s when everything changed. My eyes were soon gazing into his chocolate brown ones and at that moment nothing else mattered to me. If the world ended, I wouldn’t care as long I had him by my side. If a storm took place and destroyed our home, I wouldn’t care as long as we would find a place for him to rest peacefully. I could almost feel his heart beating his body radiating heat and energy. Pain pierced through me as I heard him cry. It was as if there was a glowing white halo above his angelic face that I couldn’t help but stare at. There was no just way to explain the moment. A connection had instantly forged itself between us bound together by the strongest force of all, love. Any fear, I had originally had, any doubt, jealousy, or fear was instantly replaced with true love and by the look on his face, I could just know he felt it too.”
I finish my story with huge salty droplets of water in my eyes and a tired mouth unable to speak another word. I had poured all the emotion I could into it and told my brother about the struggles I had dealt with; the perfect life in the beginning, followed by the loneliness that came soon after, followed by the happiness that arrived later when I heard that he was going to come, followed by the despair that came as I thought about how I didn’t really want him anymore, followed by the love that came at the very end that lasted 13 solid years and will continue to last forever.
I look up just in time to see my brother sprinting into my arms where I knew he felt safe and happy like he always has, and I hope my story lets him know that my arms will always be open for him and that if I were a candle my flame would never die out; I would be inextinguishable and would always make sure I would provide warmth and light to his world.  The moment reminds me of a quote, “A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms even when his hands are empty.” In my case, it will be sister instead of man and brother instead of children, but other than that I could definitely relate. When I said in the beginning that our relationship was like no other, I meant it. Ours is MUCH stronger than all of them combined, and no one can break us apart.
If you are wondering why he ran out of the room crying when he saw me, just read on. Just the sight of me had brought tears of joy into his eyes, because he hadn’t known that I would be there for his birthday (I was in London on a business trip), but I guess it didn’t click that I loved him a billion times more than he thought and that I wouldn’t miss his birthday for anything.
That was another fact I was trying to prove with my story. I then bent down and whispered into his ear, “I love you.” By far, it wasn’t enough to fully describe how I felt but for now it would suffice. He didn’t reply; he was probably trying to enjoy the moment, and that was fine by me. In fact, as long as we were together anything was fine by me.
Oh, and one more reason I don’t like the word relationship: it just isn’t sufficient enough to describe the connection I share with my little angel, Shayne.