FraterHermanoBrotherAdelphosFrere

There are a lot of things you need to know about me to understand me. Fortunately for you, I'm not going to force that extensive knowledge on you. {>insert your tremendous relief<} But, there is one desire that has defined me since I was two years old that I am going to share with you:

The desire to have an older brother.

When I say that, I usually get a chorus of "Aw, me too"s from those who are brotherless and "Um, no you don't"s to those who are brotherful. What I have to say to that is "Yeah, not like I do" and "Um, yes I do."

See, this desire is more than just a shallow feeling living in the back corner of my brain. This desire has always been a full-blown, desperate longing.

It started when I was two. I informed my parents that I wanted an older brother. They calmly explained to me that I had been born first, and it was a little late for that. I just kind of stared at them. How dumb did they think I was? I KNEW that. But there were other options available here, like, hm, I dunno...

ADOPTION, PEOPLE.

They told me we didn't have the money to adopt, which, looking back, was so, so, so, so SO true.

But that didn't stop me.

I decided to take matters into my own hands. If I couldn't have a real brother, I would have to fake it. All my imaginary games began to incorporate a "big brother."

Then I started claiming these two teenaged twin boys at my old church: Jeremy and Jason. They were fifteen years older than me, and perfect brother material. They taught me to play Frisbee and cross my eyes and they would take massive cups of bouncy balls and throw them down the hall with me. They were terrific, really terrific.

Unfortunately, when I was five, we moved and I didn’t see Jeremy and Jason very much anymore. {They were also at college, which made it even harder.}

But I couldn’t live without an “adopted” older brother, so I got to work. I mentally auditioned every older guy I met. I even asked one if he'd be my older brother when I was about seven. He thought I was mental.

Even though I knew it was useless, I prayed for an older brother every night. I wished for one on every birthday and every star. I was so lonely without one. I actually felt like there was a part of me missing. The lack of a brother cast a shadow on every area of life. Why didn’t I have one? The people who did surely couldn’t love and appreciate one as much as I would! It seemed like the world's biggest injustice.

When I was eight, this girl and her older brother started coming to our church. They were nice, and after a while, I became best friends with the girl, Jesse {yeah, no “i”}. She was into the same pretend-games I was, and we had all the same weird interests. One of the coolest parts was that her brother would actually play with us.

He was definitely the brother I'd always wanted. He treated me just like a sister, I treated him like a brother. He would play with me, talk to me, protect me, make me laugh, explain things to me. I loved him and trusted him more than any other guy in the world.

He played imaginary games with us every night after Wednesday night Bible study. Me, Jesse and a bunch of other kids would all run outside to the swing-set in the summertime and wait for him to come play with us. We played Orphans, Spies, Pirates, Kidnapped, etc..

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. His family left our church and I never saw him much again. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to care. I loved him with all my little girl heart, and he let me go without so much as an “I’ll miss you.” *dramatic sigh* Yeah. That hurt some. Maybe it still does. But anyway.

Point being, I’ve always wanted an older brother, basically to a mentally insane level. The need is very present in the way I think. I feel lonely, like I used to have something that was taken away, or I'm supposed to have something I don't. Like there's a piece of my life missing. Sometimes it feels like I'm living a mistake.

I also know my dad would really like a boy, too. My dad was the last male >insert our last name<. This is the generation my family name dies. If I had had an older brother, our name could live on.

But I also know my dad wouldn't trade me or my sister for ANYTHING. He loves us to death. But sometimes I still feel bad. Like I should have been the boy, and that would have fixed everything. My dad would have a son. He wouldn't have to show his daughter all the stuff about tools and yard work just because he has no one else to tell. At least my little sister would have an older brother.

I also feel kind of lonely a lot. Not for lack of friends, but for lack of...a brother. I don't like being the oldest, and I want someone to look up to, to help me out, to talk to, to protect me if I were ever in trouble.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I’M the older brother. I'm the one who kills the spiders, looks into the weird noises Lizzy hears in the basement, checks behind the closet doors, likes the gory movies, enjoys trekking through the woods, and annoys my little sister. But I don't like being the "older brother." I wish I had someone else to do it.

In the past couple of years, the desire has slowly started to get less intense, and that's a huge shock and relief. After 15 years, I was beginning to think I'd be semi-miserable my whole life. But it's gotten better, I don't cry and obsess all the time like I used to XD It helps that I have good guy friends in my life who can function as older brothers, kind of like I had when I was little.

So yeah. I know this was EXTREMELY long, and not even that funny to make up for it XD If you made it this far, congrats! If you didn't, I guess I can find it in my heart to forgive you ;)

Maybe.

~Stephanie