happy birthday, baby bro

It was my brother’s birthday yesterday. Sometimes, I miss my brother. He lives in the city. It’s not too far away. We see each other often. I miss him in the sense that I miss talking to him. Having the time to sit with my baby brother and talk about whatever. We’re close now. We were closer before. He felt more free to confide in his big sister when we were younger.

That’s very younger brother of him, but he acts nonchalant, like he’s too cool to care. He’s always been like that. It never stopped him from coming to me to ask for advice and actually listen to what I have to say.

We were close because I was the one who didn’t mind listening to him while he talked about his interests. I’ve never lost patience listening to it all, whether I know what he’s talking about or not. I know what it’s like to have what you’re passionate about be dismissed, so I made sure that my baby brother doesn’t have to know.

That’s why he cared about my opinion.

We shared interests in motorcycles. I grew up to be paranoid, fearful of it, but he still clings to that shared love. He “knew” I’d love his new motorcycle.

“You used to love those”. In between that and now, I changed. That’s where the missing part comes in. We used to be in step with our interests, problems, insecurities, or whatever else was on our plate.

We’re very close, the three of us. We don’t have your classic sibling story of fighting and distance, only to become close in adulthood. We’ve always been as thick as thieves.

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Birthdays are for reflecting.

We sang happy birthday, and then later in the afternoon, we had a 5-minute break where my brother and I were alone for coffee, and he told me that he feels like shit, and how is he supposed to feel any other day if that’s how he felt on his birthday.

I miss when I could talk to my brother. When any sorrows could’ve been mended because we worked it out together.

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