Sarah Luiz's "Siblings"

I glance at my watch impatiently and transfer a load of neatly packaged boxes to my left hip. Should’ve known you’d hit the after-work rush I tell myself, eyeing the stream of people filed before me. Maybe they’re all here to buy a quick book of stamps.

“Next, Please!” I follow the line forward a step and stack my parcels at my feet with a sigh. Standing upright again, I nose in on a conversation going on between two ladies just ahead.

“So, what’s your plan for the weekend, Betsy?” They appear to be close to my own age--late twenties. I raise a mental eyebrow, hoping to hone in on juicy entertainment.

“Next!” Following the cue, the line shuffles forward. I scoot my stack with an ankle and pull up along side it, pleased with the opportunity to move closer to the chit chat.

“Heading to Florida for a family reunion,” Betsy replies to her friend. “I’ll be there a week--staying with my siblings at a beach house.” This could be good. “Dreading it,” she clarifies. Her tone suggests a roll of the eyes and I find myself disappointed in their tame topic.

“I’ve always thought growing up with siblings would be hard,” Friend offers, tossing a golden braid over her right shoulder. “I was super spoiled as an only child and never had to share my parents’ attention.”

“Trust me,” Betsy confesses casually, “I’ve wished I was an only child on many occasions.” My internal brow furrows. How sad...

“Next, Please!”

On my drive home, my thoughts return to the conversation I overheard. I’m troubled by how apathetic and seemingly sincere this Betsy was about wishing her siblings away. My mind wanders, wrapping itself around whirling images and feelings of my own siblinghood--a comforting cocoon.

How deflated my life would have been without my sister and brother. I am the middle child, born to Nancy and Michael in the mid-seventies. Bouncing, blue-eyed, beautiful Judy had been awaiting my arrival for twenty-one months. When I was barely five and my mother’s stomach grew full again, my sister and I nurtured a common desire and split a brittle wish-bone right down the middle. A month later, our brother Joseph joined us, confirming my naïve belief that wishes can come true. Whether by chance, luck, or fate, the three of us were born into the same circle and began our lives’ journeys together.

Even as a young child, I somehow understood the unique connection siblings share. An overly thoughtful girl, I would sometimes look at my brother or sister and contemplate the odd idea that, had the planets been aligned differently or Life’s cards been shuffled more, I might have been born as one of them. We had the same parents, after all--the same blood and stringy gawkiness. We were constant companions who shared a home, neighborhood friends, family trips, and every holiday. Where many of my friends engaged in knock-down-drag-out fights with their siblings, the three of us mostly got along well, with or without my parents’ reminders to “Treat others the way you want to be treated” or “Let it be."

Flipping on the radio and cracking my window, I feel the conjured memories of my siblinghood bring a nostalgic smile to my face. But it would be unrealistic to say I couldn’t relate just a little with the Betsys of the world. I’m sure my parents would be quick to remind me of the hours of screaming and teasing they refereed. We three kids loved each other, but we were kids, nonetheless. Like most youngsters with siblings, we knew exactly which buttons to push in order to send a brother or sister into uncontrollable fits of fury. We were rarely, if ever, violent with one another partially because my parents would never have allowed it and partially because it wasn’t really necessary. Because we knew each others’ worst habits, insecurities, embarrassing moments, fears, and pet peeves, we had the most potent ammo of all to utilize in cases of frustration or purely for entertainment’s sake.

Looking back, I view both the torment I endured and meted out as an opportunity to have toughened up. Had my sister never taunted me or tickled me sick, I probably wouldn’t have developed the thick skin or tolerance for discomfort that helped protect me through life. If it wasn’t for my little brother being an incessant spy, I never would have become a speedy speaker of Pig Latin, nor as a teacher, would I be able to handle my students with such patience and poise when they’re begging for a reaction. Without a doubt, I’ve also inflicted a healthy share of influences upon siblings through distasteful tactics of my own; but having my brother and sister to practice cruelty on quickly made me realize I didn’t like the person I was when my words or actions pained another.

Despite the childish teasing we doled out to one another, my brother, sister, and I shared an almost primitive sense of loyalty and protectiveness, which seems to be a common siblinghood phenomenon. One of us could spend an entire day mercilessly harassing another, but if a kid from the neighborhood even looked the wrong way at our own blood, watch out! My siblings’ protectiveness helped me to grow up feeling valued and loved. Having them to protect in turn caused me to develop into a caring, compassionate individual. My sister, brother, and I were also one another’s cheerleading team--people who believed in each other and were there to share and celebrate life’s accomplishments. Developing alongside them taught me the importance of recognizing and honoring the strengths and achievements of others in my life.

Growing up as independent beings, of course, we often had different agendas. A couple of benefits blossomed from this aspect of siblinghood. For one, having other bodies for my parents to focus upon made it a tad easier for me to pull the wool over their eyes if and when I wanted. I was a good kid, but I was also aware of this particular advantage I had over my friends without siblings, whose sometimes hawk-like parents seemed suffocating. Another benefit arose from the fact that we all had different and often conflicting desires. My experience as a sister provided me with priceless bargaining tools and an ability to compromise. Because of my siblings, I learned to share and realized early on that allowing others to do or get what they want can be as satisfying as meeting one’s own desires.

I glance over my right shoulder and change lanes in anticipation of my freeway off ramp. Again, I consider Betsy’s words. Even if she was insincere in her statements, I am sorrowed for her and others who share her stance. I am aware that there are many in the world who’ve had monstrous experiences because of their own flesh and blood and have little choice but to sift negative figures from their lives, so I feel all the more blessed to know I would never have traded my siblings for anything. Not only have I enjoyed consistent friendship and entertainment because of their presence, I’ve also received insights into my own life through them.

Since my sister was a bit older, she provided me with a sneak peak into inevitable stages of life as she opened the door into kindergarten, junior high, high school, and finally adulthood. Before actually entering those worlds myself, I’d gained invaluable knowledge of the mysteries hidden behind each door through first hand accounts. Because I got to tag along with my sister and her friends, I had access to the coolest styles, music, and sociality and was more advanced in those arenas than my friends who didn’t have older siblings. Having a connection to an older crowd made me more street smart in school and less vulnerable to the trickery of upperclassmen, too. My sister’s journey through life influenced my own path because I watched and learned from the pitfalls and windfalls she encountered as she blazed our trail to adolescence and young adulthood.

My brother has similarly impacted my life’s path. Because I am five years older than he, I assigned myself the role of his guardian upon his birth. I loved having him to dote upon and wanted to be a good role model for him right off the bat. I helped him learn how to tie his shoes, play Candyland®, and “swing dance” in the living room. As we got older, I enjoyed days when I watched him and his friends after school, helping them with spelling homework or quizzing them on multiplication facts. I delighted in watching my brother experience things for the first time and eagerly helped him learn and grow. Surely, having a younger brother contributed to my fulfilling decision to be an educator. Who knows what career choices I might have made differently had I not had the opportunity to teach and nurture others as a child?

As I exit the freeway and start up the narrow, winding road leading home, Stephen Stills’ Love the One You’re With drifts over the radio. My mind tunnels back to a place where I’m lounged with my siblings in our overstuffed station wagon on a road trip to the Grand Canyon, the profiles our parents in the foreground and all of us encircled by the grand, golden dunes of Death Valley and a stark expanse of blue sky. As the song echoes in my head, I feel a smile dance across my face again and am grateful for the warmth encased within this remembrance.

In my daily life, I often draw strength, comfort, and purpose from the emotions and images tied to my siblinghood. Having my sister and brother is simultaneously grounding and uplifting. Because our relationships were largely based upon respecting, supporting, and nurturing one another growing up, we still treat each other likewise and have a supportive circle in which to immerse ourselves. When taking life too seriously or doubting myself, I only need to pick up the phone and reach one of them to have my perspective readjusted. If a family matter arises or I simply feel like reminiscing, it’s comforting to speak with people who truly understand the context and characters. As an adult, it’s restorative to have peers in which I still see the child playfully exposed through mannerism and spirit, as it is a reminder that youth is still alive within me, as well.

Pulling to a stop in front of our house tucked among the redwoods, I breathe a satisfied sigh. I’m glad to have snooped on Betsy and her friend today. Their exchange reminded me of how important it is to step back from the unceasing distractions of life and remember the gift of siblings. Betsy and Friend unwittingly urged me to revel in the notion that, no matter the distance between us, my siblings and I share a timeless and sacred bond which has contributed to both my person and my chosen path. It’s been too long I think, letting myself in the front door. Dropping my keys, I pick up the phone and dial familiar digits.

“Hey! I’m so glad you’re there…I was just thinking of you….”