When I was a kid, my little brother and I had a solid block of years where we were quite literally inseparable. We were hip to hip at all times. I was always holding his hand or wrapping my arm around his neck. I had zero comprehension for those siblings that I knew who fought all the time, because Kevin and I never did. As it turns out, it's just because it's impossible to fight with him. My other siblings and I had a whole conversation about this - we don't know anyone who has ever fought with him. He's too thoughtful, quiet, understanding. He never acts against other people. You'd have to really try to fight with him and even then, I think he'd just stare at you, and you'd end up feeling like a horrible human for even bringing it up.
As kids we played together and laughed together, hosting marathons of Sega games like Battletoads while drinking juice boxes and listening to British Invasion CDs. My favorites of those CDs were definitely "the green one" and "the purple one" (volumes 1 and 3).
We had this giant, fantastic old CD player down in the basement that could fit like six CDs at once, so we inevitably had all six of those slots filled with these compilation CDs of great oldies music. One of them (volume 9) began with a song called "Fire" by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown. We would always yelp out when it came on because, frankly, it's terrifying. And yet it never occurred to us to change out that CD. I think it was a secret kind of enjoyment, waiting for that song to come up. Every time an album would end we would tense up, waiting for that crazy screaming man, carefully setting our juice boxes aside to avoid grape showers of terror. Once the initial shock faded, we would collapse into hysterical laughter and do our best hip-swaying impression of the singer's pronunciation of "fie-yah".
Today is Kevin's 24th birthday and I'm just sitting here like wait what.
My husband and I took him out to dinner last night to celebrate, and sometimes it just really hits me how wonderful it is to have siblings. I have loved him all my life, and he is one of the best men I have ever known. That kind of innocent best friendship that carried us through into adulthood carries with it some of my most cherished memories. We're both living our own lives now, and can no longer be attached at the hip, but we can at least remain attached at the heart.
My mother-in-law has told me that she used to tell my husband and his siblings when they were little to love and cherish each other, because God had hand-chosen them as friends for life. What a special connection that is.
Taylor Swift has a song that always makes me tear up. It's just simple and sweet, but incredibly melancholy. It's about Peter Pan's worst fear: growing up. She wrote it for her little brother, and I can't help but relate to it. The words include phrases like, To you everything's funny, you got nothing to regret. I'd give all I have, honey, if you could stay like that. And take pictures in your mind of your childhood room, memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home. All of those wonderful evenings spent together as kids, all the games and the reckless abandon, the many dreams for the future. It goes by very, very fast.
Happy birthday to my darling adventuring partner of my favorite days of yore.
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up.
Don't you ever grow up, just stay this little.
Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up.
Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple.
Won't let nobody hurt you,
Won't let no one break your heart.
And even though you want to, please try to never grow up.
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