TheBanyanTree: To my brother

[LaLinda]

Yes. I'm  crying, btw. Beautiful.

On Sun, Apr 7, 2019, 6:54 PM Laura Hicks <wolfljsh at gmail.com> wrote:

> I think he was lucky to have you there for him.
>
> Laura
> wolfljsh at gmail.com
>
> On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 6:37 PM Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>
> wrote:
>
> > I think my brother was lucky to survive his childhood.
> >
> > Monique
> > Sent from my iPad
> >
> > > On Apr 7, 2019, at 3:29 PM, Laura Hicks <wolfljsh at gmail.com> wrote:
> > >
> > > Absolutely beautiful, Monique.
> > >
> > > Laura
> > > wolfljsh at gmail.com
> > >
> > > On Sun, Apr 7, 2019 at 5:50 PM Monique Colver <
> monique.colver at gmail.com>
> > > wrote:
> > >
> > >> Writing things down in case I forget them and.
> > >>
> > >> The day you were born I wasn't there, I was probably at home, where I
> > >> spent much of my time. Mom hated me hanging around the house so much,
> I
> > was
> > >> a constant thorn in her side. So she was there when you were born. I
> do
> > >> remember smuggling alcohol in to her. Dad said, "Put this under your
> > >> shirt," So I walked into the maternity ward looking like a 13 year old
> > >> slightly pregnant girl, the shaker under my shirt clinking with ice,
> > >> because gin and tonics needed to be served cold.
> > >>
> > >> You were not breast fed.
> > >>
> > >> Dad and I went into Mom's room and she was sitting up, looking her
> > normal
> > >> self, as if she hadn't recently pushed you out. The gin and tonic
> > helped I
> > >> think.
> > >>
> > >> Next thing I knew, you were at home. There was one bedroom at the end
> of
> > >> the hallway that I'd previously shared with our sisters, but they were
> > >> moved out and on with their own adult lives. The room was long, and
> when
> > >> you moved in you got the half on the door side. A divider was put up
> in
> > the
> > >> middle of the room and I was on the other side. We each had a window,
> > but
> > >> my side was dark, just the right place for someone like me. Yours was
> > >> bright and smelled of baby powder.
> > >>
> > >> One time I had you on the changing table, changing you. Your Mom was
> > out,
> > >> so I was in charge of you. The boys and Dad were all watching TV in
> the
> > >> family room. I turned to get something, a silly move on my part, and
> you
> > >> rolled over and fell on the floor. I was so upset! I'd rather bash my
> > own
> > >> head in. Dad came to check, but when I picked you up and put you back
> on
> > >> the table you acted as if nothing had happened.
> > >>
> > >> It was my job to keep you safe, and change diapers, and feed you, and
> > >> entertain you, and I was very concerned about doing it all properly
> > because
> > >> I loved  this tiny creature so much. Sure, you had a Mom, but I was
> the
> > >> stand in.
> > >>
> > >> When we moved to Hacienda Heights I had my own room, and you had to
> room
> > >> with someone else. I'd never minded rooming with you. We'd spend so
> much
> > >> time together anyway. I'd take you to pre-school, pick you up from
> > >> pre-school, take you to the store with me, entertain you while Mom
> > waan't
> > >> there. You were always asking me why. Why this, why that, why. So many
> > >> whys, and I didn't always have answers. But you forgave me.
> > >>
> > >> I was there when you fell and hit the side of your head on the glass
> > >> coffee table, right next to your eye. Chaos ensued. Fortunately Mom
> was
> > >> there too, and we took you to the ER. She drove like a bat out of hell
> > and
> > >> I held you, compressing a towel against the cut. I don't remember you
> > >> crying, but you might have been. About forty years later I fell on my
> > face
> > >> and had a cut right next to my eye. I still have my scar, how about
> you?
> > >>
> > >> I was there when Dad brought you home one day and said you'd fallen
> out
> > of
> > >> his truck when he was turning a corner. You were banged up, but just a
> > >> little, so we put bandaids on you because you demanded them. You lay
> on
> > the
> > >> couch and demanded canned mushrooms to help you recover from the
> > trauma. At
> > >> 4 maybe? Whatever you wanted, you got.
> > >>
> > >> That was usually the way. You were the youngest, and you were, as far
> > as I
> > >> can remember, the best child ever.
> > >>
> > >> I watched you learn to swim, I let your instructor in and after your
> > >> lessons I'd give him a beer while he hit on me.
> > >>
> > >> One time I tried carrying too much down the stairs at once, and of
> those
> > >> things was you. I tripped and fell the rest of the way, and all I
> could
> > >> think to do was hold tight to you and keep any part of you hitting the
> > >> floor at the bottom of the stairs. I landed on my knees, and your Mom
> > was
> > >> right there, ready to kill me if you had as much as a scratch. But
> your
> > >> head was still against my chest , you were fine, and may have enjoyed
> > the
> > >> ride.
> > >>
> > >> My knees never recovered, not really, especially the right one. It's
> > never
> > >> been the same, but it was a small price to pay to keep you safe.
> > >>
> > >> We were careless with you in a way that isn't done anymore. You would
> > ride
> > >> in the car standing on the passenger seat from the time you could
> stand.
> > >> One day we in the car with Mom, the boys in the back seat, you and me
> in
> > >> the front with Mom driving, you standing between us as usual. Maybe
> you
> > >> were 4? We pulled into the driveway and Mom, one foot in a cast,
> > >> accidentally accelerated instead of braked, and the car went right
> > through
> > >> the garage door support between the garage doors. It all happened so
> > fast,
> > >> and my left arm went out to keep you from hurtling through the
> > windshield.
> > >> I'm sure Mom's right arm went out too, it's instinctual in moms to
> > protect
> > >> their babies.
> > >>
> > >> When I moved out at 18 you were five, and you were the one I missed
> and
> > >> cried about for so long after. No one else really cared that I left ,
> > but
> > >> the way you'd greet me when I came back to visit and want to be with
> me,
> > >> even wanting to sleep with me, told me that you missed me too.
> > >>
> > >> I have always been proud of you, and even if you don't remember all
> the
> > >> fun and terrifying times we had together I always will, until I
> remember
> > >> nothing at all.
> > >>
> > >>
> > >> Monique
> > >> Sent from my iPad
> > >
> > > --
> > > Laura
> > > wolfljsh at gmail.com
> >
> --
> Laura
> wolfljsh at gmail.com
>