My brother Michael is the most precious thing I have on this earth.
Ever since I was a four, I used to always ask for a brother, I knew what I wanted, a brother not a sister. And when people asked me
“what would you do if you get a sister?” my answer was simple
“I would flush her down the toilet!”
And I really meant it! No harm associated!
I was so determined about a brother not a sister, until at my 11th birthday I received a small greeting card signed from your brother…
There were no words to describe my happiness; I started crying and directly ran to my mother and hugged her… I remember my friend Carel coming to me and whispering “I know… she’s pregnant…congratulations!”
Nine months later, in February, the month that my mom was supposed to deliver, I used to come every day from school, look to see my mom home and sadly say “you are still here…”
Then on the 16th of February, it was a Monday, I remember coming back from school, and noticing that my mom wasn’t there!
I was so exhilarated; there were no words to describe how happy I was!
I remember someone drove me to the hospital, and then we waited in the waiting room. Sometime around 7pm, the nurse came out with my baby brother wrapped in a white blanket.
He was so cute; I remember seeing him smile to me. No one saw him smile other than me, so I convinced myself that the smile was only for me.
He had dark full hair, not very white skin, black eyes that looked Chinese; I he was the most beautiful baby I ever saw, my baby brother. At the time, no one other than me saw him as very beautiful; and that used to piss me off. I still get pissed off if someone says that he wasn’t beautiful when he was born.
Then Michael became my toy, literally my toy, I was 12, and he was a doll to me!
As of June, and after I finished school, I used to take care of him all day when my mom was at work.
What does a 12 year old girl want other than a baby to feed, change diapers, and bathe?
He was all I ever wanted…
Time after time, Michael was becoming older, becoming cuter. Sometime at the age of 2 or 3 he had white skin, black straight hair, and cute round chicks. I used to always bite his cheeks and make him cry. I never meant any harm, so he just was super cute.
He was a funny child.
Through the years, my mom went back to university to get another degree, so I took care of him in the afternoons, after mom would finish helping him with his homework.
When I get to think of him, I cannot see him as a brother alone, I see him a son as well. I mean, I did everything a mother does, except conceive him.
Sometimes, we were associated as Tom and Jerry, but given the age difference…. It’s very normal.
Now Michael is turning 13 in February, he is becoming a teenage, I look at him and think “WooW… he’s becoming a man!” I don’t know how those years passed, but I know one thing, and it’s that my life wouldn’t have been the same without him…
I love him so much, when I think of it I feel a part of my heart getting torn.
We spend all our lives living with the people we love, but do we ever stop, and think how does that feel?!
Or do we even make the simplest move to show our love?