B is for Brothers

If you are a female who grew up in a house of brothers, you have a glimpse into the reality of what its like to be kidnapped by psychopaths and tortured until your release. I had two of them and I was right in the middle. Not a day went by that there wasn't some sort of suffering either verbal or physical.

My younger brother mainly just annoyed me. I spent much time alleviating my frustrations from my older brother by taking them out on him. I once gave him a wedgie that ripped his underoos. I was shocked at how easily they split and how strong I was. He was not. But mostly we screamed and yelled at each other. My older brother was a much different story.

I had a cowlick. It was slapped daily. He had a bull whip. It was used daily (until confiscation). He had a science kit. My hair was blue. He found that if you touched the rim of the stove and the metal strip on the toaster, you could restart your heart. I got to test it. I threatened to tell mom about his girlfriend coming over while he babysat. I spent 4 hours locked in a toy chest. The first time I ever shaved my legs with a razor, I clipped an artery. Too bad for me, my bathroom was on the backside of the house across a great expanse of carpet upon which he was sprawled watching TV. With blood cascading across my foot, I shakily asked him to go get mom. He took a look at my foot then told me to go get her myself. He brought home a snake that was loose in the house for a month. He skipped Thanksgiving to play basketball. He lit the neighbors yard and a rivals tree house on fire with fireworks. He shot my toddler brother with a BB gun at point blank range. Never a dull day.

Now that I am older, my brothers are 180's from their former selves. My older brother gives me golf lessons and financial advice. My little brother and I can now speak and is my greatest protector. He's also the greatest source of motivation for my spiritual life. The trials and tribulations they bestowed upon me made me the woman I am today.