The
following is an excerpt from Teen
Love on Friendship.
A Brother's Love by Colin
Mortensen
Sometimes we look in all the
wrong places and to all the wrong people to get the
support we need. It's taken me a while to learn that
friendship can be found closer than you think, even
in your own home. Growing up, I knew I always had a
great friend in my brother. Besides the biological
connection we share, there's the common ground and
shared history that has kept my brother and me bonded.
My brother and I have an
ongoing tradition of never letting the other forget
the mishaps that "accidentally" occurred
between us during our childhood. To be fair, my
"accidents"sometimes involved "accidentally"
chasing him around the house with the golf club in my
hand, swinging wildly. I preferred the irons (my
favorite being the three-iron because you get a
fuller swing with a longer club). Although my older
brother patented the torturous technique of pinning
my arms down with his knees, sitting on my stomach
while I was on my back and almost letting his "spittle"
drop on my face. If you don't know what spittle is,
consider yourself lucky. My favorite memory is the
time my brother threw a dart at the dartboard while I
happened to be standing in front of it collecting the
darts. I remember how he stood there, half-horrified,
half-smiling, watching the dart hang from my back,
drooping in my bare skin.
He also threw a truck at my
knees when I was about four years old. To make
matters worse, my dad decided he would make it a
Kodak moment. Instead of making sure my brother
stopped what he was doing, he pulled out the camera
and took a picture. They framed the picture and it
hung in our kitchen for my entire childhood.
Another time that sticks in
my mind is both painful and comforting. One night we
stayed at my aunt's house and I was really sad about
something. I just remember crying and crying in my
brother's arms when we were trying to go to bed. I
don't even remember what I was so sad about; the
important thing is that I have the memory of knowing
he was there for me and feeling comforted by him. In
looking back, it is nice to know that two brothers
could share that kind of emotion with each other
without even thinking about it. Society tells guys
not to show emotion, especially with each other, but
that didn't stop us. We were so innocent. I love that
memory.
We had--and still have--a
strong bond. Through the years I probably went too my
brother too few times when I was having trouble. I
wish I had gone to him more often because he has a
sweet and caring soul. The times I did confide in him
felt very good. My pain or heartache never needed a
context or an explanation. That is a feeling I
experience so rarely in my life these days--feeling
completely understood without even speaking. More
often than not, my path feels lonely. But I've
realized that discovering my own aloneness is even
more of a reason to cherish a sibling I can relate to
and confide in. Sometimes that is all one has, and it
can be a most precious and enduring resource.
