I Was Born With Brothers
Better yet, I was blessed with brothers! Three big brothers for nearly 58 years. I even had the blessing of nurturing a little brother for 24 of those years.
Since I was born right after two brothers, one 2 years older and the other only 11 months older, I was born into a shield of protection. They were my protectors, my trainers, my influencers, good and not so good, my first friends. My tormentors at times, bosses at others, and my fathers, they thought.
Growing up with big brothers provided me with an incredible sense of safety. I hung with my brothers. Where they went, I went. Growing up with brothers instilled in me that boyish sense of fearlessness that leads to being a risk taker and an adventure seeker. We had a lot of fun, got into our share of trouble and earned a few life long scars. Once they had me doing leap frogs over iron pipes down the sidewalk on Joline Avenue. I ended up with a deep gash in my inner thigh that sent my grandmother into a fit when we showed up at her house one evening with blood running down my leg. They knew she would know what to do because she wasn’t just Nana, she was also a nurse. After stopping the bleeding, cleaning the wound and patching me up, she gave them and me, a come to Jesus talk about what girls should not be doing and how they, as brothers, are supposed to keep me safe. I still have a permanent scar in my right inner thigh to remind me of the adventure and the tongue lashing.
Once they had me helping them launch a boat in the water at the park and my mother specifically told us not to get in the water before we left the house. Of course we got caught and got our butts whipped when we got home. It was mother’s day. My mother came by the park before going out for her mother’s day dinner and there we were, knee deep in the water and busted. I think my oldest brother Kenny was there for that one too.
We fought too and how. Fighting with them over the years was how I learned to fight back. If they made me mad, I would pick up the closest thing I could find and swing it if they were close enough, or throw it they weren’t. I remember breaking the glass on the front door by throwing a baseball bat down the stairs at my brother Robert. He ducked and the bat hit the window. It was winter and needless to say we had to give our mom all our snow shuffling money to pay for the window.
My brother Robert was only 11 months older than me, my grandmother always called us years twins. I don’t really think that’s a thing but she liked it. We were Robert and Robinette so it worked for us too.
From elementary through high school, Robert and I always walked to school together every day, if one or the other wasn’t suspended for one thing, or the other, that was never our fault. Once we both got suspended at the same time for fighting with each other! My mother was totally out done when that happened. I think she called us every kind of stupid she could think of… I mean, she wasn’t wrong. It was pretty stupid.
As a young girl and even in my teenage years, my brothers were my protectors. I took comfort in knowing they would stand up for me. I probably took enough comfort to speak very boldly in some situations, knowing my brothers would protect me if the need arose. Others in the community knew that as well. Sometimes it was a challenge getting any guys to ask me out because they were afraid of my brothers. I think they did threaten a few of them, when I wasn’t around.
Of course as time moved on everyone began to move into their own lifestyles and that meant our time together became less and less frequent. There was always someone missing from the photographs. First the oldest brother who went into the military right after he turned 18. Even I moved away at a very young age and eventually started my own family. After I left Robert moved out of state to be with his family. I know that my brothers struggled with addiction which eventually lead to them spending time in prison. I wasn’t around in the beginning of this but the cycle lasted long enough for me to eventually be subjected to the experience of having an addict… or two, or three for a brother.
I can remember being mad at them for quite a few years because they wouldn’t stay clean and free. I could see the pain their choices caused my mom and I was angry at them for causing her pain. But angry or not, I would always check on my brothers. The ones that were local I would seek them out so I could lay eyes on them. Over my husband’s objections I would go to the crack house and check that my brother was alive. My husband would insist on coming with me because he was concerned about my safety but I wasn’t. I knew that even if my brother wasn’t there, someone there would know him and they would know not to mess with his sister. They were still my protectors even in the midst of their addiction.
My wedding was the first and last time all my brothers were captured in one photo. In fact, it was the first and last time all my siblings were captured in a photo with my mom. The marriage may not have lasted a lifetime but the photos of all of us together will last for generations to come. I AM grateful for that.
All my brothers are gone from this 3D world now. The youngest being the first to go in 2000 and the other 3 leaving this world one right after the other within a 9 month period in 2021 and 2022. They all made tremendous improvements in their lives at one point or another. Some remained steadfast and others relapsed. Through it all, I AM most grateful that I didn’t remain angry with them and continue to hold them in their past. If I had so many memories would never have been made, so many photos would not have been captured. So much love would never have been shared.
I was born with brothers
my fathers
my brothers
my protectors
my teachers
my leaders and trainers
my friends…
with me now, with me then
with me always till the end
The end never comes… I WIN!
