It was fun.
It was frustrating.
I met my oldest brother when he was 18. He spoke only Spanish. He was funny. I was 14ish.
Over time our relationship shifted. I grew up. I began to make my own choices and had independence. Did he take advantage? Or did I? Who asked who? Maybe I was too trusting. I asked him to find drugs for me and he did.
I was already a heavy marijuana user, but as I approached drinking age, a rebellious spirit inside wanted more. One night, we stayed out all night. it was the first and last time. I felt safe with him. I trusted him with things I wouldn't say to anyone.
Weeks after that night he got in trouble for something. He was talking back to my Mom, diminishing the situation he was in. As I walk from the kitchen to the living room, we lock eyes. He says, "Mom, you are worried about me? You should see all the things she does behind your back!"
I'm sure I shouted something back. I've never stood down from a verbal match. Let's go!
Mom stopped us. She said this wasn't about me and to go to my room. I did and she never brought it up again.
My brother apologized, but it broke my heart. He's my half brother, different fathers. And although I met him at a young age, I never treated him like he wasn't a member of the family. In a moment of frustration, he lashed out on the first person he saw, no care for who I was.
Our relationship today is cordial. At least there's that.
Take care,
Kathy