Brotherhood

It's hard to say when friendship begins.

I can remember at times knowing as soon as I met a person that we would begin a deep and fulfilling friendship.

I can remember moments when a person grew on me, taking on a new form as they rose from the sea of 'everybody' to become a special somebody to me. I can remember seeing a person in my usual haunts, thinking it'd be cool to get to know them over and over, but allowing them to pass right by until one day, they weren't there anymore.

It took me a long time to form friendships. I moved around a lot as a kid (I've counted 13 different schools from pre-k to high school) and to put it quite frankly, I had to stop getting attached. I was always the new kid and was painfully shy so it made talking to others challenging. Then, by the time I was comfortable enough to make friends it'd be on to the next city. The thing is, when I did get attached, I'd latch on and literally nothing and no one else would do. Ask anyone in my family (and a few ex's of mine) they'll tell you- if I love it is fierce and deep and personal- and if you left it was utter heartbreak you were putting me through.

Letting go is still difficult for me as an adult, so I imagine it was quite a bit harder on me as a child. Luckily, I had a companion I could put all this loving energy into safely.

My best friend was a teddy bear named Strawberry. They were gender fluid, sometimes identified as he or she, depending on what kind of energy I needed. Strawberry was a gift from my older sister. She lived with her dad and I lived with our mom. Upon witnessing one of my why-are-you-leaving-me related tantrums when she left after a visit, she had the wisdom to bequeath Strawberry to me the next time she came to stay. And I'll never forget what she said when she gave it to me:

"When you're hugging it, you're hugging me, and I'm hugging you right back."

So, through thick and thin, I always had Strawberry with me. In fact, my mom's dog just ate their eyeballs off a few weeks back. (And I haven't fixed them yet either, but it's not the first time Strawberry's been made blind by a pet. I'm pretty good at repairing this kind of thing.) I've kept Strawberry through all my ups and downs, lefts and rights, and it is still my prized possession. Thankfully, they're no longer my only friend.

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Along the way my mother had my little brother, eventually got married to my step-dad who had 3 sons of his own, and I got some company. Four little brothers.

When you have four brothers you don't really need friends.

They were loud, fun, funny, smart, active and mischievous. And I was the oldest, so I was responsible for them while my parents worked odd hours to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I fondly remember the summer when we were living in a small town in Missouri called Moberly. They all had bikes (I did too, but it didn't really matter) and very quickly began calling themselves 'The Biker Boys'. The town was small so they rode end-to-end from sun-up to sun-down, always up to something.

My oldest brother made sure they didn't get into too too much trouble, but it was up to me to know where they were and what they were up to.

Easier said than done. Yet everyday they'd come home before the street lights came on. I'd be in the living room reading when they'd clamper in- rowdy and exhausted all at once- hungry after a day spent in the sun. I could sense their freedom vicariously as they exchanged stories of the day and reports from around town. I was care-taker more than sister so I wasn't always in on the fun. Not to mention I was just starting to develop into a young woman (read: puberty) so they'd have to deal with the attention that their friends would give me (which I often didn't want anyway) and so would complain if I asked to go along.

I was jealous of their connection. I was once a part and arguably a ring leader of this tiny group of rabble rousers. Now I could feel our connection to each other changing in a way I hadn't anticipated. We still loved each other for sure and were super protective to boot. But slowly 'The Kids' became 'The Boys' and I would carefully watch over them- usually alone- with the careful ticking of 'One-Two-Three-Four' going off in my head every hour or so, making sure they were all present and accounted for. I wished I had their bond. They were always together or in pairs, generally causing me stress with their chaos but always there for each other. As long as they had each other, they were good.

When my parents split up years later, I was already on my way to college, and very, very ready for the experience. My senior year of high school was tumultuous and dramatic- both because I was on a competitive drama team with one of my greatest frenemies and because it was the most unstable time during my parents split.

If you'd like to know more about how I got through it and what was happening to me, feel free to ask. I know all about it. What I don't know is how it affected by brothers. And being 18 and not actually their caretaker, I never thought to ask them. I was honestly just grateful to be out of the situation and finally- FINALLY- in control of my own destiny.

But my brothers... I didn't even think to count them. And by the time I acclimated to the culture shock of privilege and possibility on Mizzou's campus, it was too late. My absence was felt. Of course I still talk to my brothers, but it's been years since we've all been at the same place at once. I reach out to all of them on their birthdays and holidays and we have little chats... there's no lack of love but somehow it's never been the same.

Recently I've been staying with my Aunt Cindy in Kentucky. My little brother Kevin (my biological brother) has been staying with her too, making a new start after some much needed soul searching. I always felt like he was the most strongly affected by my parents' split. He was my mother's only son so when my step-dad left, my step-brothers went to live with their mom. They had lived with their mom on and off during the course of my parents' relationship anyway, but not having his brothers to stay and only occasionally visit was tough. My mom and their mom didn't always see eye-to-eye and without their father being under the same roof as us, there wasn't anything to be done. I don't think he ever thought there'd come a time when they didn't have each other. You need friends when you don't have three brothers anymore.

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Since I've been in Louisville, I've gotten to see him and my younger cousin LaVaughn bond. It's over the typical boy stuff- football, video games, playing the dozens til someone's feelings get hurt- but it's been... nice. My brother was brother-ing again.

The other day, I saw Kevin and LaVaughn tossing the football outside. Then they were joined by another boy. Then another. Like moths to a flame, they played. The game evolved from catch into two-hand touch. End zones were the light pole and the tree next to the big tree on the block. Touchdowns; good and bad, plays run incorrectly or to the kiddos strengths. Lots of laughter and jokes as they debated who was fastest, who could catch, who couldn't throw. "It's hot AF out here!" "My hands were sweaty!" "CAR!" as they moved out of the road. Goodbyes as the sun went down. It's time to go home. At least until tomorrow, when they can do it all again.

But for now, the street lights are on.