July 17th .Sunny.
To have you as my little brother; To be given you...is a blessing. A blessing that I would never let go no matter how strong the obstacle in front of us is. My hand will always hold yours. In the sparkling rain. In the suffocating snow. In the daring sunlight. You're my baby brother. Forever and always.
Our friendship began with a building blocks. Building a sand castle. Simple. Nothing valuable was needed. We could be handed with sticks and stones, and still build love, friendship, unity. All I knew was what I felt. It was tingly. It was warm. It was my happiness shining through the very first time. Sunlight shining in my childhood. Piercing through growing leaves, growing trees. Thank you.
Our families connected. We smiled. We laughed. It was my everything. All my childhood memories were carried by this simple connection. I held it. I embraced it. As promised, I held closely to my heart.
We were running 'round and 'round in the playground. Us three. I saw pass the painted trees, over the colored ground filled with fallen leaves. It blew and rustled. Two adults whispering behind one. My mother. My eyes were ten years old. My brain was twelve. She knew that mouths were moving not far from her. But she looked around, like she was searching for something. But I knew she felt its presence. She saw it clear. She wasn't searching for anything. She was running away from what's in front of her. Or behind her. The moving mouths of gossip. The whispering message of: "We are best friends now. I've taken your spot. You are redundant. You don't matter." I stood there. I understood. My garden stopped receiving the sunlight that was nurturing it all this time. It grew dark, silent. Nothing moved. It was hidden and unseen. I had to quite my addiction, make it unheard of. An internal whisper. From my heart to nowhere. She cried, she thought, she hoped. But those mouths still talked. They still compared. They claimed their proud victories. I heard her tears. I could feel them, stained on her bed. On her heart.
Our sand castle tumbled down. Our building blocks was knocked down brutally. They were all buried down deep under my garden. Now, I'm given the chance to rebuild, to redeem. The pieces are given to me. They can be left there, to fit the dust between their edges. They can be put together and create the beautiful picture once seen before. Or a hideous one that would make me regret. Make me puke, cry, scream. It's all a choice. A risk to find our lost happiness.
But even without them, my garden continues to shine. It has learned to grow independently. Without sunlight. Without the sandbox. Without the blocks.
Without my childhood memories still breathing in me.
***
Mom,
I'm sorry that I am still so useless. From the age of four, to now the age of sixteen. I still can't protect you. I still can't stand. I still need you to carry me, feed me, love me. I'm sorry I didn't see pass my happiness and search past my own selfishness to find your unhappiness not so far away. All those tears you have shed, all the rejection you have been forced to accept, they are all gone now. And from now on, I'll be here with you. Both the good and bad. I'll endure it with you. I'll cry with you. To know that you've tried your best to keep that friendship strong, makes me cry. And I love you so much for what you have sacrificed. You are my hero, even if we lost. You are all I need to live on without my childhood still living in me. You are my sunlight now.
