I have only one sibling...my "little" brother (and I cannot seem to stop calling him that) who is four and a half years younger than I.
I've always adored him. I never felt any sibling rivalry, enjoyed playing with him throughout the years (that I recall, he might remember otherwise), ultimately decided that it was the ideal separation between siblings.
I had two miscarriages between my children; if the first would have been born on it's due date, my son and that baby would have been exactly, to the day, the same difference in age as my brother and I. It didn't work out that way...I had that miscarriage and another one after that. My daughter is five and a half years younger than my son. It's perfect for us, and as it's meant to be.
Back to my brother and me...we are close. We love each other. Whenever we talk on the phone, or write, or email, we pepper into the conversation, "I love you," and, "I love you, too." Because we do.
But, see...we don't talk/write/IM/email frequently enough. We just don't. We're missing out on crucial, everyday details that is incomprehensible to me when I stop and consider the fact that at one point in our lives we couldn't chose a cup from which to sip water without consulting the other.
How can I not know what's in his heart? Well, maybe I do...but what if I'm wrong? HOW CAN I NOT KNOW THAT?
How can he not know what's in my heart? Well, maybe he does...but what if he doesn't? HOW CAN I HAVE LET THAT HAPPEN?
Those days are over. Done. My brother and I are close. Very close. But we need to be less strange to each other.