Zach

My 12-year-old brother, Zach is pretty much a boy version of me. We have the same hair color, we’re the same height (which makes beating him up really hard), and we have the same nose. The only big difference in our looks is our skin. Although I have a lot of Albanian genes in me, my mothers prominent Norwegian descent gave me very white skin. While my brother got awesome olive skin. Making a trip to the beach not as worry free for me, as it is for him. Besides that you would have to be blind not to think we’re related in some way.

I met my brother on November 22nd, 1997. The day after he was born. Although my brother was not born at some ungodly hour of the morning, my dad refused to take me to the hospital to see him. My dad being a fan of logic over emotion thought it best for me to be well rested and fed when I met my brother, instead of cranky at the hospital. Me being six, decided that this was unfair and my dad was out to get me. My teen angst had already started.

Meeting my brother was very exciting. Looking down at him he looked like the hundreds of other baby dolls that I had at home, except this one was real and it wasn’t my responsibility to put him back where he belonged. I gave him the present I bought him from the hospital store, and was a little miffed that he didn’t say thank you. He’s had a long day being born though, so I let it go and quickly assumed the role of his second mother, carrying him around wherever I went and telling him what to do any moment I had.

When my mom and Zach came home from the hospital him and I had to share a room. His sleeping patterns were backwards though, and he would spend his days fast asleep and his nights wide awake. This created the first tension in our relationship, and when my parents finally bought a house with three bedrooms I was quick to take the room farthest away from his. From then on no matter how cute, or funny he thought he was being he would always annoy me. This baby doll turned out to be more of a headache then I had bargained for.

Watching Zach grow up has shown me just how opposite we are. When someone told me don’t touch the stove, its hot. I’d touch it anyway, get burned and learn my lesson. When someone told my brother not to touch the stove, he’d touch it anyway, get burned, forget about the pain the last time he touched the stove, and touch it again. This is how Zach is to this day. He’s started entering the dreaded days of puberty, and wants to spend as much time away from the family as possible. When my parents found out what exactly he was doing while away from the family, a very strict grounding was placed on him. I tried to explain to Zach that if he would just get good grades, and be honest with mom and dad that he wouldn’t be questioned so much and would be free to do whatever he wants. But being 12 going on 22 means that he knows a lot more about life then I ever will, and I need to stop acting like his mother and leave him alone. The teen angst on his part, has officially started.

As of right now Zach wishes he had a brother, and I know this only because he loves to remind me every free moment he has. I try to explain to him that I would have liked to stay the only child, but when I open my mouth he tends to shut his ears. Making our communication with each other very difficult. Right now we get along only when he knows I’ll buy him something, seeing as my parents give him limited money and he knows I have a job. I wish I could have treasured the days when he couldn’t talk, but unfortunately their long gone and his vocabulary just keeps growing every day. Maybe when he’s 18 there will be a common ground between us, but as of right now I’m his older sister,something he did not ask for, and I therefore suck.