Two Brothers and a Sister.

I have two younger brothers and no sisters.

I don’t know what it’s like to have a sister to play dress up with but I do know what it’s like to grow up in a house with boys. My memories are filled with basketball, baseball, snow forts, fishing, hunting, and wrestling.

I always thought I missed out not by having that special bond of a sister.
But now that I’m in my mid-thirties I realize how lucky I am to have my brothers.
I am blessed with a couple girlfriends who feel like sisters and I value those friendships so, so much.
But The Boys are different. We laugh at the same memories, battle the same issues, and share the same slightly skewed sense of humor.
It woulda been cool to have a sister, but man, I can’t imagine my life without my brothers.

Through the years they’ve been a sounding board, an encouragement, and a complete judgement-free zone. Nothing I’ve ever confided in them has ever been held against me or even brought up again.
There’s something special about that sibling bond. Forged together through shared experiences, both good and bad. Funerals, road-trips, family fights, celebrating holidays.

After my car accident, I woke up to my brother in the hospital bed with me.
When the twins were born, The Boys beat my parents there.
When our grandpa died, we rode the six hours to the funeral huddled in the backseat of our van holding hands and sharing stories.
When my baby brother came home from basic training, we were all waiting at the airport.

When we were younger, I would spit hateful things at them, scream-whispering the words so mom and dad wouldn’t hear, but no one else dare utter a cross word in their direction or I would come unglued. I beat up more than a few kids on my brothers’ behalf… but by the time I was in high-school they were both towering over me and the roles were reversed.

I don’t usually publish the poetry I write, but I guess I’m getting sentimental in my old age and missing The Boys a little extra since we don’t get to spend the holidays together this year.

And, I bet I’m not the only sister-less sister and I think the brothers/sister bond is not celebrated nearly enough so here is a little somethin I wrote:

The Boys. My Brothers. My friends.

~To Bub and Z, I love you both~

I was the first born and I wanted mom to have another child.
I prayed for a little girl who would be sweet, quiet, and mild.
What I got instead was one boy and then another.
Not a cuddly baby sister; but two crazy brothers.
Noisy, rough and tumble wrestling lens benz
Soon you were the boys, my brothers, my friends.

I liked you more and more the bigger you grew.
I even spent your first three years talking for you.
We spent hours exploring cornfields and venturing around the neighborhood.
We’d play power rangers, army men, or cowboys and Indians whenever we could.
And when I invited you to tea parties, you would always (begrudgingly) attend
After all, you were the boys, my brothers, my friends.

I remember the first time you beat me in basketball.
You were only thirteen but already six feet tall.
It wasn’t’ long until you were winning every game we played.
Except Super Mario Bros, the reigning champ of that I stayed.
Soon after that our sporting competitions came to an end.
But you were still the boys, my brothers, my friends.

When I started dating you were always right there.
I didn’t matter what I said, you didn’t care.
I sat hand in hand with my first love; with you right between us.
My glares, jabs, and insults wouldn’t make you budge.
I was angry, annoyed, and at my wit’s end.
But you were still the boys, my brothers, my friends.

Our childhood wasn’t filled with bows, dresses, and glitter.
But I wouldn’t trade the trucks, guns, and army knives for a sister.
We had our fights, our share of yelling and tears.
But we also made so many memories over the years.
We’ve rollercoastered through the different trends,
You have always been the boys, my brothers, my friends.

Now that we’re adults I appreciate you even more,
though we’re separated by miles and a couple ocean shores.
One of my greatest blessings in life is being your Big Sister.
I only wish, just once, we could take a decent picture.
Without picking, pinching, or poking each others chins.
Regardless, you will always be The Boys, My Brothers, My Friends.