My brother Ramon (April 22,2008)

My brother Ramon
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

I stood in front of the nursery room; my six year old self had never felt so excited. I have been trying to get the nurse’s attention for quite some time; there were awfully a lot of crying babies keeping her busy. I turned to my father, who was as eager as I am, asked him for the name card and flashed it on the glass window. Then, seconds later a cute baby boy lying on his crib approached us, and greeted us with his constant yawns. My heart was so full that I wanted to go right pass the glass window and hug that cute little baby in my arms and whisper in his ears, hello my baby brother. Those were the days; eleven years had gone past so quickly that I never noticed how that adorable baby boy would soon turn out to be taller than I am. Those were the days; my baby brother now morphed into a non-stop irritatingly annoying machine who runs on lifetime batteries and main features are to bring bothersome torture and sibling dilemma to my life. Those were the days; that cuddly infant trying all his might to open and close his little fists, now once in a while hits his not so cuddly fists to my upper arm whenever I tease him crushing on a girl.

Being an elder sister isn’t as fun as it appears to be. Some may think the older ones are in control, can manipulate their younger pests – I mean siblings. Well, think again. Take my younger brother for example; my supposed to be semi-perfect day starts out all sunny and according to plan but after he gets on stealing my tv hours, bothering my study time and rampaging the refrigerator until no food is left, my day is as you would predict, ruined. How I hate it when he begs me to help him with his homework; because when I would mercifully do and solved it for him, he starts acting as if he already knows the answers in the first place and erased my existence from his stubborn little mind. If I were given the opportunity to write a resignation letter to the older brothers and sisters association of the universe, I would. If I can give you hundreds of reasons and explain them comprehensively in an unbiased level, I would. But you know what? I can’t. Better yet, I wouldn’t.

Although he would get too annoying and could often times blow up my nerves, science simply blurts out that blood is in fact denser than water. Yes, he may be the very definition of butt pains but when he gets all sentimental and brotherly he shoots bull’s eye at my weak point. I heard him on the phone one night, at first I thought he was probably bragging about how he captured the legendary what’s-his-name with a master ball in his pokemon game. But, he was bragging about someone otherwise. He was proudly telling his friend how I graduated in high school with honors and write decent articles. Just recently on my birthday, he surprised me with a hand made card with colorful stickers and a poem he personally made. I didn’t realize how he treasured those moments when I would sit down his side and help him with his homework. These are the times when this irritated and annoyed seventeen year old becomes a big sister to a wonderful baby brother.

My mother always told me that I should not be jealous of my brother. Yes, I too am a victim of sibling rivalry, but not in an intense degree. There were times I wondered why he gets higher grades even if he spends more time flicking the remote than the pages of his text books. There were times I wondered why he could easily play tunes on piano even if he heard the song just once, while if I would give it a try all I get is a plain sour and disfigured noise. But, a sister like me who has an incredible and talented brother should be more proud and less envious. I could not imagine being an only child, not that it’s boring or resentful because you got all the attention and love of your parents, but because of these simple reasons. It’s yummier to eat with a sibling even if you would get only a half of what you both are eating (or a fourth of it you are four siblings in the family). It’s more exciting to play chess with someone who laughs at your wrong moves and you won’t get hurt that much. It’s more fun to wake up every morning with an annoying eleven year old saying you look horrible and your breath stinks. It’s more meaningful to live a lifetime with someone calling you ate, manang, kuya, toto, or inday all throughout.

Today is my brother Ramon’s birthday. I am sure this mushy article of mine won’t change anything of our ruthless arguments and remote control debates but this will remind my little brother of how much I appreciate him, of how much my life was made more colorful now that he’s around.

It was eleven years ago that I became a sister.
I will forever be one.

Happy 11th Birthday Ramon Ariel Ken M. Garcia!