I had my younger brother over for a few days. We haven't seen each other for a while, and in fact, this is the first time I had him stay at wherever my work has taken me. We had a few laughs, we talked, we went around the malls, and to generally have fun. We use to do this when we were younger, and it is with an startling sense of dejavu that we investigated not only the different malls, but more importantly, we began the process of knowing each other again, how we have changed, how we have remained the same. I thoroughly enjoyed our time. We bonded, as they say. At one point, we were talking, listening to the CDs he just bought, he asked me if I didn't have to go to my office, and if I didn't have work to do. I told him that everything's cool, that I didn't have to be there, but the truth was that I really didn't want to do anything else at that time but to spend time with him. I set aside other things so we might have ample "quality time."
It felt weird and wonderful having him here. First, it made me realize we have become two different persons, not that we were ever the same. We were different from each other from the beginning different personalities, different temperaments, but the years spent apart from each other has not only underscored the difference but made it more distinct, but not in a negative way. I relish in the thought that my brother, as well as myself, have grown up. He is now a separate person on his own, with his own set of beliefs, convictions, principles, and even view on life. I may not agree with everything that he holds as important, but neither is he obligated to agree with mine. He is not just my baby brother, but through the years, he has developed his own sense of identity carved out with his own experiences, built up by the knowledge and wisdom that he has learned. This makes me proud of him. And I hope he is proud of me too.
However, it also made me realize how much alike we are. Shared memories, shared moments that have shaped us may be partly responsible for this. Utterly private jokes, reference to childhood recollections, things like that. I have always thought that our tastes in music, for example, differ, and yet we have discovered a shared passion over certain styles, certain genres, certain artists. In the long to the middle, we have indeed found delightful convergences. But not only that, I see myself in him, and I am sure he also sees himself reflected in me. We share gestures that are uncannily familiar, a way of saying things, a way of thinking. We are bonded, after all siblings, brothers, progenies of the same couple.
And no matter how far you think you may have advanced, I have discovered that things can still be the same. You are still you, the big brother, the brother with these characteristics, this brother one knows so well. My brother used to know all the right buttons to push to set me off, and in a brotherly sort of way, discovered in no time, that he still knew it, and pushed it just because he could. For a moment there, we were kids again he was bugging me, and I would rejoin at his antics in ways that made me feel I have never grown up. I was 12 again, and he is 10. And in some strange way, I take delight in this. He is trying to recapture memories. He is reliving some strange and important events. And we both swim that to that place, to that place, when we were once kids, when we were friends, when everything was as the way you’d think of a time or a place to be perfect, or at least ideal.
It felt weird and wonderful having him here. First, it made me realize we have become two different persons, not that we were ever the same. We were different from each other from the beginning different personalities, different temperaments, but the years spent apart from each other has not only underscored the difference but made it more distinct, but not in a negative way. I relish in the thought that my brother, as well as myself, have grown up. He is now a separate person on his own, with his own set of beliefs, convictions, principles, and even view on life. I may not agree with everything that he holds as important, but neither is he obligated to agree with mine. He is not just my baby brother, but through the years, he has developed his own sense of identity carved out with his own experiences, built up by the knowledge and wisdom that he has learned. This makes me proud of him. And I hope he is proud of me too.
However, it also made me realize how much alike we are. Shared memories, shared moments that have shaped us may be partly responsible for this. Utterly private jokes, reference to childhood recollections, things like that. I have always thought that our tastes in music, for example, differ, and yet we have discovered a shared passion over certain styles, certain genres, certain artists. In the long to the middle, we have indeed found delightful convergences. But not only that, I see myself in him, and I am sure he also sees himself reflected in me. We share gestures that are uncannily familiar, a way of saying things, a way of thinking. We are bonded, after all siblings, brothers, progenies of the same couple.
And no matter how far you think you may have advanced, I have discovered that things can still be the same. You are still you, the big brother, the brother with these characteristics, this brother one knows so well. My brother used to know all the right buttons to push to set me off, and in a brotherly sort of way, discovered in no time, that he still knew it, and pushed it just because he could. For a moment there, we were kids again he was bugging me, and I would rejoin at his antics in ways that made me feel I have never grown up. I was 12 again, and he is 10. And in some strange way, I take delight in this. He is trying to recapture memories. He is reliving some strange and important events. And we both swim that to that place, to that place, when we were once kids, when we were friends, when everything was as the way you’d think of a time or a place to be perfect, or at least ideal.
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