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Brothers & Sisters

They are the sweaty, wild beings that inhabit your home and take way too much time in the bathroom. They are the clothes-stealing, music-blaring, easy-to-scream-at, leave-their-mess-in-a-trail-around-the-house siblings that you have been blessed with. They are your roommates for at least eighteen years, and in some ways, people you are stuck with all your life.

That's right - brothers and sisters.

Maybe you are an only child, and know not of the playful arguments that seem to run along these lines:

"You could feed a third world country with all the food in between your front teeth!"

"Oh ya? If every one of those pimples on your face could make a noise, you would have a symphony!"

(Sometimes I'm convinced that we are given younger siblings only to help propel us out the door towards living in a house of our own.)

Sometimes I wonder if my sister lending money at 25% interest and my brother creating cosmic-size sound waves with his electric guitar are unusual occurrences in families. But I don't think so.

There are times when I love having siblings. When we were little kids, my brother and I managed to handcuff a babysitter to the dining room table.

Another time we attached his skateboard to my bike. (You can imagine the results.)

Every once in a while my siblings and I have those heart-to-heart moments when we really show how much we love each other. But the hugging and words of wisdom only seem to last an hour or two. Yet it's at those times that I realize just how much I do enjoy having a brother and sister.

They say who a person really is comes out at home. When I snap, when I yell, when I am impatient, when I make mean comments - that is the "real" me. I'm convinced that "loving your neighbor as yourself" starts by showing love to those closest to you - your family. I mean that's harder than being nice to a stranger at the grocery store isn't it?

I say I want to change the world, but I can't handle when my sister breaks something in my room. So I've tried to start working on how I treat my family. It isn't easy to be rational and calm when I'm babysitting my brother and he tries to start a fire in the backyard. It is easy to yell and pound on the door when my sister attempts to turn herself into a human prune, floating in the bathtub.

But I've found that if I really love my family, (and I do!) then I need to treat them in a way that shows that. Besides, I only have to live in this house four more years...

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