right now you are sitting in the bathtub, sobbing quietly to yourself. your big blue eyes are red from crying, and every once in a while when you catch my eye you stick out your lower lip, as if to emphasize your plight.
you miss your big brother.
he just left for a five-day trip to Washington, D.C. with his class. he's going to see so much stuff, little girl, it's pretty amazing; and it's not even going to be that cold.
ten minutes ago i watched you guys say goodbye to each other. you threw your stick-arms around his neck and cried into his chest, saying "i'm going to miss youuuuu" over and over, while your 11-year old brother blinked back his tears and responded in kind. since he walked out the door, you have repeated how much you miss him already five times.
"i want him to come baaaaaack" is your latest plea.
i'm doing my mom-thing here, saying "i know" and "take a deep breath"--lots of back rubbing and cuddling to ease the pain. the truth is, i'm a little shell-shocked myself at the thought of that kid being gone away from us for so long.
i'm all for it, you know. someday you'll go on these kind of trips, too, and it will feel right for you, just as i know it does for milo. i know he's ready for it. this past week was peppered with breakdowns and anxiety in between moments of clarity and excitement, although since he comes from me he'd never actually admit that part. he's scared, and he's going to miss us, miss you, little girl, so much, but he's going to have a great time, and i know he can do it.
and we'll be okay too.
you might not remember this later in your life, if you have my memory; then again, you might remember every detail of this night, such as the fact that despite my best efforts there will be no bubbles in your bath. you might remember that milo had soup and bread before he left, then proudly told us he dropped a big poop so that we could remember him by his smell. you might look back and feel yourself hugging him so tightly, convinced that if you could just lock him into you, there would be no letting him go.
i hope you do remember, for reals. because watching you two tonight was one of the proudest moments of my life. no matter what, you two love each other, and he takes care of you like no other. he'll do anything for you. like today, when he spent some of his xmas money buying you a littlest pet shop wii game. you might think lots of big brothers do that for their sisters.
you might think that, but you'd be wrong.
your brother has a generosity of spirit that has lived in him since the second he started to breathe on this planet. you are touched by this. he has taught you well.
i miss him so much, right now. i wish we could hear him playing the recorder in the room next door, the very sound that i curse at most nights of my life.
he's a really good person, selkie. and so are you.
let's take good care of each other this week, ok? i'll be good to you, and you be good to me.
in the meantime, little girl, i'll think of your big brother right now, sitting in the backseat of the car on the way to the airport, calling on every reserve of strength and self-confidence that he has to make it through another goodbye before he embarks on this journey. those big blue eyes that are yours are also his, and i can see him looking out the window at the lights of Los Angeles, knowing he's leaving this place for a while.
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