My brother being four years older than me has kept us from being close. By the time I wanted to follow him around, the novelty of a baby sister had long since worn off and he was starting to gain friendships he didn’t want to share. But, often I was seen only as his shadow; most of this time he was patient. We have pictures of us settled in front of the television watching shows together, or dressing up (him as a soldier, or assassin; me, a princess) and dancing in the living room to whatever music we had. There were times when he was very gentle and aware that I was a fragile toddler and later, child.

        But, as time passed and as we left Ohio to live in Missouri the first time, he steadily separated from spending time with me. I was not to enter his room. I was not to talk to his friends. At, school he wasn’t Brinnan, my brother. Occasionally, and I don’t know what the spark was, he would offer to do something with me, or offer some kindness. I guess, a good thing was that as he separated from me, I separated enough too that it was just a natural event, not a calamity. But, those moments of shared experience always made me smile.

         We had our months of too much contact as well, where every word was begging for a fight and we just didn’t care. Over time, I learned to avoid trigger subjects and he learned to tolerate me because I wasn’t going anywhere. When we moved here, the separation was fully complete. Brinnan was in high school, while I was still firmly entrapped in elementary. The problem was, I now thought my brother was cool again. Everything he and his friends did seemed fun and mature (I know now that’s not the case!), but it was a world I wasn’t allowed into.

        Especially over the last two years, as he has been driving and been with Brooke, his girlfriend, I have had many days where I didn’t see him at all. Often, his voice would be the only way I knew he was even there. Our bedrooms are next to each to each other, so at night, I would see light flicker beneath my door, hear the footsteps, a door shut, and his voice through the wall as he talked to Brooke or a friend. It was like a ghost lived there, but to be fair, often when he was home, I wasn’t because I went to be with friends or had sports. And just the voice, in a way was enough. I knew my big brother was there, and I was safe. Sometimes I wouldn’t fall asleep until I heard him performing his ghost ritual. Flicker, step, step, shut, whisper. Recently, I’ve seen him a little more as school wound down. He hasn’t offered much of the kindnesses of earlier life, but we haven’t been fighting. Just existing in each other’s presence.

           The reason I wanted to write about my relationship with him is because last night he graduated from high school and in just a few months he will be moving to a dorm an hour and a half away. That isn’t far in distance, but it’s a million miles away, because for the last four years, I’ve grown accoustemed to hearing him, if not seeing him. And even though he’ll be a only a short drive away, knowing he’s not right there will be a weird experience. I have never been satisfied with my relationship with him and have always wished we had the close type of bond that a lot of siblings share, but my mom tells me it will happen someday, as he goes to college and starts his life away from us.

         The thing is though, I have a little brother. When he’s in eighth grade, talking about our relationship, and about me graduating, I want his paper to be filled with memories; I want him to have no regrets about me as his sister. I want him to see me as friend he’s sad to see go, and not as the ghost down the hall. I want him to want to call me and just say hi, I want us, all of us, to experience closeness together for as long as we’re here. If we can all sit in rocking chairs on an old porch in our old age, discussing life, telling stories, or just enjoying the company, I’ll be happy.