My thoughts in poems

A memoir

This is a memoir I wrote about my brother and I's relationship, I hope you like it. 

Parker is the oldest of the Smith children. He is two years my senior. Though he does not always seem so. The love I have for my brother is beyond words. I like to think I understand him only second to Sarah, his best friend. My brother is kind, but cannot see past himself. This often pushes others away. I too was pushed away. I was three and Parker five during my first memory of him. The day I discovered his nature.

I have done something wrong. I do not know what, but I hurt him. I cannot remember if it was physical or emotional. He ran to his room. He lay face down on the pillow sobbing. It is late afternoon. The overhead light is on. It illuminates Parker's small frame in an otherworldly glow. He is the most important in my universe in that moment. His wails reach me, a standing silhouette in the doorway. My gut twists and falls. I am dying of guilt. My head screams for my brother's pain to cease.

"I'm sorry..." A whisper flows from my lips born from grief. "I'm sorry!" I grew louder repeating the only phrase. A voice comes from the haze.

"No you're not!" It says in a warning tone. A wave of confusion hits like a typhoon. Of course I am sorry, can he not understand how I feel? Why would I not be sorry?

"I am sorry! I MEAN IT!" I shout (I never understood what 'I mean it' meant, but I always knew to scream it when I wanted someone to listen). "I am sorry."

"NO YOU'RE NOT! NO YOU'RE NOT!" Again and again the words rang out. He will not accept my apology.

I cannot take it anymore, all my senses caterwauling. I run out of the door frame, out of the guilt, out of the confusion. Flopping on my bed a whimper turns to a weep, a snivel to a sob, a blubbering to a bawl. I AM SO SELFISH! I caused my brother's pain, and I have the audacity to lay here crying. But god am I mad. Why cannot he just say that it is okay. I AM SUCH A HORRIBLE PERSON! I just want him to be like me. He will never be me. No one will.

This was the moment when I realized not everyone was me. This may seem obvious to adults or even children, but you had this eureka moment as well. Not everyone is me. They would react differently, think differently, be different. I could not expect them to forgive everything I would. I could not expect to understand them.

Despite small arguments, my brother and I were extremely close before Natalie, our little sister, was born. During her earlier childhood we would all play cars, playmobil, and pretend. Our favorite game was called Jump Rope Girls & Warriors. I would be the Jump Rope Girl and Parker the Warrior. Our goal was to protect our land, the backyard, from monsters using ordinary toys as weapons. The game was centered around Parker. He came up with plots as we played. Parker taught a girl who always separated herself from people; a girl who would rather play alone, the joy of playing with friends. Before I knew it I was coming up with my own plots for games. Like space station, or evil witches. Just as I grew up enough to create; Natalie grew up enough to listen. Parker and I separated for I found a better playmate.

My brother is standing in the kitchen dressed up with a fairy wings. Joy radiates from me. I am dressed as a princess in a Belle gown.

"Mom aren't I pretty?!?" I twirl contorting the words. I dizzily place my hand on the tall kitchen counter. She smiles at me and gives me a nod.

"Should I send this picture to all you friends?" My mom chortles to Parker. I get a weird feeling in my stomach. The idea seems off. I get the feeling that would be very bad, but I cannot comprehend why?

"Don't." Parker says angrily with a touch of fear. After that he never played dress up again. Though to be fair he was older than us. I still remember clearly the look of him in wings glaring at the camera.