Kleenex for G
My brother, G, and I have not lived near each other since I was in college and he was in middle school. About the time he went to college far from home, I moved even further to Pennsylvania. He moved from southern Illinois to Tennessee. Then to Alabama. And in a couple of weeks, he’ll be moving to Georgia. We’ve always been close despite the eight years and hundreds of miles between us. We talk on the phone and email several times a week. Most nights we catch each other on instant messenger.
G is the sort of little brother every big sister enjoys. He’s funny, he’s smart and he’s irresponsible in that envious, courageous way. He has changed jobs more times than I can count. He moves to a new state without so much as a second of hesitation. He stays during a hurricane when the local officials (and his big sisters) are telling you to evacuate. But he always comes out on top and I’m always jealous of his bravery even if it just comes from a lack of outside responsibilities and obligations.
Off and on all weekend, I’ve touched base (a family term for “checking in on”) with G to see what he’s up to and to just feel like he’s not so far away. Tonight, after finishing household chores, taking a hot bath and finally eating a bit of dinner, I sat down on the couch to enjoy my Sunday night ritual of football. G, on the other hand, turned on Extreme Makeover Home Edition. As we chatted back and forth about what we were watching, I realized he was REALLY into his show. He loves Eli Manning and yet is not watching the Giants? Something was amok. As the conversation went on I realized something about my brother. He is a softie.
G is in the construction business. He can build a house (if he wanted to). He volunteers for Habitat and has helped many people out during the hurricane recovery. He is watching this Home Makeover with his heart. He is captivated by the family situation (wounded veteran) and loves what the team produces to honor this family.
I keep posting updates on the game.
He asks for a tissue. He says he’s kidding, I’m not so certain.
I tell him the Giants just scored a field goal.
He says “shush, I’m watching the tear-jerking show.”
I tell him the Chargers are on the one yard line.
He says “they paid their mortgage off and gave her a scholarship.”
I tell him he’s missing fans with jeans so low they’re almost indecent.
He switches channels to catch the game but only because Makeover is on commercials.
I love my brother dearly. He is the first one to make me laugh when my life seems beyond salvation. If I tell him I fixed the toilet this weekend, he’ll be the first to say he wishes he were closer to do it for me. And if I get stuck on a project, he’ll lend me all the advice I ask for and not a drop more. Tonight, as he tries to laugh off and joke about his softer side, I know that this is the very part of him, the very heart of him that some woman is going to fall in love with someday. I know that his sentimental, almost romantic side is what gives balance to the rest of his hard-working, independent lifestyle. Tonight I might laugh at the irony of me watching football while he watches a chick show on ABC but I know, deep down that we’re both just expressing the sides of us often reserved for the opposite gender. I hope that my love of football will serve me as well with a significant other as his softer side will for his relationships. Somehow, knowing how lucky and unabashedly fearless my brother is, he’ll beat me out on that one, too. I’ll still love him anyway. But don’t think for a moment I’m going to let him get off scott-free for having teared up during a Sunday night show on network tv. This will come up again. I would be remiss as an older sis if it didn’t. My recommendation: don’t give me the mic during your wedding, G. It’s your own fault if you do. Ya big softie.
G is the sort of little brother every big sister enjoys. He’s funny, he’s smart and he’s irresponsible in that envious, courageous way. He has changed jobs more times than I can count. He moves to a new state without so much as a second of hesitation. He stays during a hurricane when the local officials (and his big sisters) are telling you to evacuate. But he always comes out on top and I’m always jealous of his bravery even if it just comes from a lack of outside responsibilities and obligations.
Off and on all weekend, I’ve touched base (a family term for “checking in on”) with G to see what he’s up to and to just feel like he’s not so far away. Tonight, after finishing household chores, taking a hot bath and finally eating a bit of dinner, I sat down on the couch to enjoy my Sunday night ritual of football. G, on the other hand, turned on Extreme Makeover Home Edition. As we chatted back and forth about what we were watching, I realized he was REALLY into his show. He loves Eli Manning and yet is not watching the Giants? Something was amok. As the conversation went on I realized something about my brother. He is a softie.
G is in the construction business. He can build a house (if he wanted to). He volunteers for Habitat and has helped many people out during the hurricane recovery. He is watching this Home Makeover with his heart. He is captivated by the family situation (wounded veteran) and loves what the team produces to honor this family.
I keep posting updates on the game.
He asks for a tissue. He says he’s kidding, I’m not so certain.
I tell him the Giants just scored a field goal.
He says “shush, I’m watching the tear-jerking show.”
I tell him the Chargers are on the one yard line.
He says “they paid their mortgage off and gave her a scholarship.”
I tell him he’s missing fans with jeans so low they’re almost indecent.
He switches channels to catch the game but only because Makeover is on commercials.
I love my brother dearly. He is the first one to make me laugh when my life seems beyond salvation. If I tell him I fixed the toilet this weekend, he’ll be the first to say he wishes he were closer to do it for me. And if I get stuck on a project, he’ll lend me all the advice I ask for and not a drop more. Tonight, as he tries to laugh off and joke about his softer side, I know that this is the very part of him, the very heart of him that some woman is going to fall in love with someday. I know that his sentimental, almost romantic side is what gives balance to the rest of his hard-working, independent lifestyle. Tonight I might laugh at the irony of me watching football while he watches a chick show on ABC but I know, deep down that we’re both just expressing the sides of us often reserved for the opposite gender. I hope that my love of football will serve me as well with a significant other as his softer side will for his relationships. Somehow, knowing how lucky and unabashedly fearless my brother is, he’ll beat me out on that one, too. I’ll still love him anyway. But don’t think for a moment I’m going to let him get off scott-free for having teared up during a Sunday night show on network tv. This will come up again. I would be remiss as an older sis if it didn’t. My recommendation: don’t give me the mic during your wedding, G. It’s your own fault if you do. Ya big softie.
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