That One Day When I Worshiped My Brother

There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my brother. I was the pesky little sister who would do anything, absolutely anything to please this boy. He was the big brother who would come home from Kindergarten and teach me whatever he had learned that day. Reading, writing, anything, and I was the faithful student/sister/servant who would willingly comply. “Not like THAT, Erica, like THIS”, he would complain, correcting the ‘E’ that I would write. My ‘E’ had six arms instead of three.
He was in town recently, and we were hanging out, laughing, reminiscing about some of the things he would ask me to do.
Mike was a little league baseball pitcher and I was the team bat girl. In my willingness to do whatever I could to ensure his pitching perfection, I offered myself as a living sacrifice. Seriously, he took me to the backyard and said “Stand right here.” He placed me against the back of our brick house and I, having all the trust in the world, said, “O.K.”
“WHOOSH! CLACK! WHOOSH! CLACK!” The tennis ball he threw with lightning speed and the precision of the greatest pitcher in MLB, whizzed past my face onto the brick façade. I didn’t move. Not even a twitch. For some reason, I knew he wouldn’t hit me. Over and over he practiced, using me as his target, and never once did he come close to hitting me.
We fought like crazy as kids. I even told him that I hated him. I didn’t hate him. Ever. I loved him with everything in me. Today, we have a cool relationship. We don’t see each other nearly enough, but I still love him. I still trust him with my life. Maybe next time he’s in town, I’ll wait for him in the backyard with a tennis ball and the wide-eyed trust of the little girl who worshiped her brother.

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2 thoughts on “That One Day When I Worshiped My Brother

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  1. Ha!! Oh yes! I will never forget playing Canon in D!!!! All time favorite!
    Thank you for your many compliments! The E with six arms is classic Erica. Go big or go home I always say! 😆

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