TheBanyanTree: To my brother

Tue Apr 9 11:21:52 PDT 2019

The putz and his wife and children are currently at Disney World in Orlando
for spring break. They live ten minutes from Disney Land and have a
seasonal pass. They go on the Disney cruises and it seems they're always
somewhere doing stuff. He's surely making up for his childhood of
privation.

Which I suppose is okay.

*Monique*

On Tue, Apr 9, 2019 at 11:17 AM Russ Doden <russ.doden at gmail.com> wrote:

> Wow, just wow.  This made my eyes leak.  Thank you.
>
>
> On Mon, Apr 8, 2019 at 10:06 AM Pam James <pamjamesagain at gmail.com> wrote:
>
> > beautiful Monique...
> >
> > 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
> >
>
>
> --
> Enjoy Life By Living In Joy
>
> Well Being Consultant
> www.rldwbc.com
>