Living half a world away from my older brother and cousins I grew up playing with, it's a little hard. They were my first playmates, friends, the foundation to who I am when I laugh, smile, and tell stories. I guess the change from this story is the distance that develops over time, and the nostalgia that comes from remembering what it was like being close and always fighting as kids.
*an old family picture, I'm the one in the bow tie.
01/03/2014 (Friday)- A Fine Day for Cake
“Don’t grow up,” my five year-old self told my older brother, oh so long ago, as we were putting on our Sunday’s best for his party.
“Why?” he asked as he helped me with a button, his slimmer six year-old fingers helping my chubby clumsier digits.
“Because,” I cried sullenly as I watched his older hands move sure and swift over the rest of my buttons.
He clicked his tongue: “We’re having cake today. You know we get cake today, so don’t cry.”
“I don’t want cake.”
“Don’t cry. What do you want then?”
“I want more time with you.”