I am not feeling inspired tonight.
You’d think that I would- after all, I just got back from my first ever pageant (viewing of, not competing in), which theoretically should be rife with opportunity for pithy comment. But the truth of the matter is that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. And while it’s true that several of those girls were hilariously ungifted at their so-called “talent”, some of them were really quite good, which made the day feel not entirely wasted. Plus it was nice to be around a bunch of people so excited to cheer on one of their own. There was one young man in particular who filled me with a warm fuzzy feeling; he was cheering for his sister with the same sort of enthusiasm I used to cheer for my brother during his wrestling days.
It made me miss him (my brother, I mean) most horribly, and led to me contemplating the variety of ways in which the relationships between siblings can manifest. I am incredibly grateful for how it turned out between us; we’re close in a way that is unique amongst all my friendships, in large part (I believe) because we have special insight into the emotional traumas of our shared childhood. Not, of course, that there was any particular indication during said childhood that we would end up this way. I’d have predicted ‘death-by-murder-suicide’, maybe- but not ‘exchanging-hand-written-letters-on-a-weekly-basis’.
It’s the only thing that makes me think that maybe, just maybe (if I reproduce at all) I would want more than one kid. Because my relationship with my brother is so awesome- so incredibly precious to me- I would hate to deny that chance to my own offspring. I know it’s not guaranteed, of course- sometimes we grow to resent the person in the foxhole with us, rather than love them- but even a slim chance to experience this is better than none at all.
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