It’s 9 p.m. and my brother has just fallen asleep on my lap, we were watching the good wife together till the sound of his soft snoring interrupted. I lightly touched his face, his jaw-line and his chin where soft tufts of hair were starting to grow. I love this kid, boy, almost-man. This moment reminds me of when he was first born, I couldn’t get over how fast and how much he slept. I feel protective of him in this moment, like I somehow want to teach him everything I know without telling him explicitly, because he would be too proud to listen.
In this same moment, I feel a pang of pain, I’m often mean to him. Yesterday I said some harsh things, over something petty, like cleaning up after himself. I can’t help it, we are different but also so similar. I want to control him, but just so I can protect him from what’s ahead, but he wont have anything of it; again, pride. He is growing, forming his own ideas, having opinions, talking back. And I am here, helpless, bickering, yelling and being the older sister, essentially baiting. I want to be better. To be mature.
But I’m realizing something, I seem to be most unkind to those I love.
Is this normal?
Or are we just most critical of those we love…
Or maybe we spend so much time with them and they see us for who we truly are?
I don’t know, what do you think?