Being the Big Sister
Lately, like all adolescent boys
He seems to have outgrown himself–
All sharp angles and hard lines,
Knobbly joints and overlarge feet.
We look alike, with our round green eyes
And smiles that tug up one corner
Of our mouths further than the other
And unruly, tumbleweed umber hair.
He's taller than I am now, and is wont to
Snatch things away, hold them just out of reach,
Grinning patronizingly while I grope in vain.
But I'll always remember him as the baby:
Helping him kick off snow-caked boots
After an exhilarating battle with neighbor kids
In the birch-peeling grey shade of the backyard
Covered in a thick mantle of downy crystals,
My palms pressed flush against his back
To launch his swing into the yawning blue sky,
The summer sun filtering through leaves above
While we constructed empires of sand for ants,
Watching him rake a hand through his hair
Exasperatedly while I jotted down steps to solve
Worksheets of jagged, bewildering equations,
(Our penmanship is identical: bold and loopy).
Nowadays, we alternate as teacher and student
He patiently places my fumbling fingers
To strum an awkward chord on the guitar
Or recommends films I'm too chicken to see
Of course, we quarrel and slam doors
But there's an inherent bond in siblinghood, and
No matter how we heap on the dirt of bickering
Or snide remarks, we never fully bury it
Today, I am student, roommate, writer
These ephemeral titles fail to embody Me
But Big Sister is a label fastened to my heart
Forever.