Posted by Fitz

 

I don’t remember anything at all about one of the most important days of my life.  It was October 20, 1977, and family lore tells me that I was shuttled off to a neighbor’s house around 9:00 a.m. while my mom enlisted another neighbor to bring her to the hospital, three weeks late with her second child.  My dad was apparently careening down Highway 128, trying to get to Framingham Union in time for the big delivery.

My mom got to the hospital at 9:20.  My brother was born at 9:40, and my world was changed forever.

My parents always tell me – especially now that I’m on the brink of having two children of my own – how proud I was to be a big sister.  I was a precocious 2 years, 9 months when he arrived, and apparently would introduce him to everyone as my yittle brudder with a beaming smile and a gentle pat on his head.  I was smitten from the get go.  There are albums of pictures of us playing on the beach in Harwich, out in my dad’s boat, lounging in bed, and having fun.  He was my constant companion, and I loved him.

Growing up, we had our moments – all brothers and sisters do.  There are a few incidents (clearly my fault) that I remember  (“You’re an animal!”), but I don’t have to get into them since this is my blog.  I remember him calling me a hot air balloon, which for some reason was inexcusably offensive to me.  On the eve of his first day of his freshman year of high school, when I was a junior, he announced that within two weeks I’d be known solely as his sister (and he was pretty close to being right, given that I was your stereotypical student council nerd with mall hair and he was the smart, nice quarterback of the football team).  We have always been different.  We’ve taken different paths, and have different approaches to life, but have only grown closer over the years. 

I’ve always kept that intense pride for my yittle brudder.  In many ways, he is what I would like to be.  In other ways, he reminds me of the best parts of myself.  He is the only person who can dissolve me into complete, stomach-pain hysterics with a single look from his enormous blue eyes, and is the only person who knows exactly where I’m coming from in terms of family history.  I love how he and my husband have grown to be close friends, and I love the incredible woman he married – giving me the sister I’ve always wanted.  In short, my brother is my best friend in a way that no one else could ever be.  We have always been in each other’s corner.

Why am I telling you this (and embarassing him to death, most likely)?  I’ve been thinking a lot about siblings, and I have the normal worries about how our new baby will impact The Bean’s life.  I’m worried that her world will be rocked negatively, and I’m anxious about her transition to big sister.  But when I look back on how my life has evolved with my brother, I can’t help but get a big smile on my face.  If all goes according to plan, The Bean will be getting her best friend in less than two short weeks.  Her life will be changed for the better in countless ways, and I just can’t wait to watch it all unfold.  My biggest hope is that, someday, The Bean feels the same way about her sibling as I do about mine.

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