Sure, I regularly post with extraordinary frustration over that same kid, but this time it's different.
It started with yesterday. Last day of school. It was 3.30 and everyone was racing to see who could get out of school first. Not me, I was already packed and trying desperately to fit my jumper into my bag. Wasn't going to happen, so I decided instead to do the sensible thing and put it on under my blazer. My hand got caught in it, and then gave way, hitting me in the ear. It didn’t even hurt. Didn’t matter. The tears rushed forwards and I couldn’t stop them. I felt so stupid for it, but I was so so tired, I was crying for that. I couldn’t breathe properly. Hyperventilation. Needed a hug, which He gave freely, having just witnessed what was no doubt a rather strange event to those other than me. Apology. He walked me to the front of the school, even though he was leaving via the back. That’s the kind of guy he is, and I love him for that. But this isn’t about Him.
Walking to the front gates, saw brother, whose locker is around the corner from mine. Saw that I’d been crying and asked if I was ok, what happened. Explained, then left.
Mum finally arrived to pick us up but my bag was too heavy to sling up onto my back. called out something about they don't appreciate how heavy it is in response to their jokes about my slow speed as I trundled, Igor-style, the 25 metres to the open car boot. Surprisingly, instead of him jumping in the car and waiting as my sister did, he came back, still wearing his bag, picked up mine and carried that on his shoulder too.
While this seems just like an ordinary gentlemanly thing to do, for him, that's incredible.
Then, after sitting in a hot bubble bath for an hour, reading (fun fact- my puppy is afraid of green bath salts for no reason whatsoever), I emerged in fluffy pj's to make dinner. He ventured forth from the Xbox and asked me if I wanted a hug. This kid used to be a little solid mass. Now he’s 6ft-something and I can wrap my arms around him so that my hands touch the opposite arm past the elbow. In short- a beanpole.
He wasn't loud or obnoxious despite having fizzy drink after school (I swear, you mix my siblings with sugar and they regress to the age of three)
Then, this morning, he comes out and sees that I let our sister have a whole Danish (they’re not big and there was only 2) and commented that we were meant to cut them into three to make it fair. I told him to eat the other one, at which point he offered me half. Sharing is not a frequent thing between us. It brought me to write this. He’s not been loud or obnoxious yet, though this could be because he's been on the Xbox all day so far.
I know this is just a list of him being nice. But I don’t care. I make tributes to everyone else I’m feeling grateful towards so I think I should for him since it is such a rare thing for him to be not actively trying to irritate me to the point of seriously considering places to dump his body.
He’s loud, annoying, childish and rude. He bigger and stronger than me and knows how to push my buttons. But, as he gets older, I see the man he's becoming and I am intensely proud of him for it. I don't often openly display my affection for him because it’s girly and boys shouldn’t do that, or so he says, as well as reminding us that he wants nothing to do with us after he moves out. Sooo not gonna happen.
I made myself a promise that when I move out, or any of us do, for that matter, I will catch up with them at least once a week. I love my family - despite our faults, my mother’s passion-turned-fiery-temper, my father's constant work, my sister's snobbery and my brother's loud noises, I love them all and I wouldn't trade them in for the whole world.