Sometimes it really bothers me that I live so far away from my family. It’s hard to think that the people you love the most are living without you. I think back to when I shared a room with my sister and a TV with my brother. There’s no better way of getting to know a person than to share a small space. From here it all seems very warm and fuzzy, but even though I know it was neither and living with my brother and sister again would drive me insane, it’s nice at least to have the memories, however accurate they may be. When I was ten, my step-brother and step-sister entered my life, and though the five of us siblings only lived together for a short time, I remember that time fondly too. I thought they were the two coolest people on the planet.
I began this post with something entirely different in mind, but writing about my siblings has given me a new direction. Generally, living here on my own in California, I don’t think much about myself as the youngest of five siblings. No, I’m just Ashley on her own. But, when my grandma died in March and I went home to Washington to be with my family, I was reminded of that special bond you share with siblings. It’s like being part of a club, and maybe no one else wants in, but it’s still exclusive. With family, you have an attachment that runs deeper than whether you love or even like each other. You’re tied in regardless.
If I fought with my friends as much as I’ve fought with my siblings over the years, then we’d no longer be friends. If my best friend had ever uttered some of the cruel things to me that my sister has, I would have dropped her a long time ago. I’d be lying if I said that I thought my relationships with my siblings were necessarily deeper than my friendships just because we’ve been through so much. It’s not an internal strength that keeps me bound to them. It’s more like lack of choice. Maybe that sounds depressing, but it’s pretty comforting to know I could fuck everything up, and my siblings would still be there. They’d be pissed, but they wouldn’t walk away and they wouldn’t give up on me.
The relationships I have with my siblings are among the most dynamic in my life. They have hurt me more and brought me more joy than most others. It’s sad to think we can’t go back to those years when we all lived together, but it’s interesting to see how we develop away from each other, and I look forward to the few times a year when we’re all reunited.
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Same here, if I was as mean to my friends, or they were as mean to me, as my brother and I am to each other, wow. We wouldn’t be friends. By my brother is one cool kid, and I wouldn’t trade him in for anything.
That’s the great thing about family in a way. I’ve always had to learn to not be direct with my friends in the way that I could be with my family or else we’d never have made it.