Brother Bear

I remember the day very clearly. I was away swimming at the YMCA at a Primary Activity. When I got home, you were about to be born. Being ten, and having seen quite a few births, I hope you don't mind that I wasn't there to watch your entrance into the world. You know me, I'm more of a boil water support staff kinda gal. But I do remember getting to see you right after you were born. That's a pretty special thing to me.

You were a cute little, round fellow, with dark hair. And, as you grew, you stayed round, and your hair lightened like all the brothers' hair did. Mom and Dad took you on a trip to Alaska with them when you were quite small, you growled at Grandma and Grandpa's dog, "just like a bear", Dad said with no small amount of Alaskan pride, and your nickname took hold. I know you don't like to be called that anymore, I know you're an adult, but I can't stop myself. Habits are hard to break, and I hope you don't mind me playing on my big sister status and that you won't be too hard on me for it. It is who you are to me. It makes you unique. Not too many people have a brother Bear, after all.

A few things I remember about you:

You were so squishy. All my brothers were sturdy, handsome little chaps, but only you were squishy as well. We all liked to grab onto you and squeeze and squish you. It was so satisfying. I'm sure not to you, but thank you for indulging us. Your little cheeks were just right for a pinch, and we just could not stop. You had this little band of freckles across your nose, and you were just adorable. When you were small, you were always the one who sustained the most mosquito bites in the summer. We used to laugh because when we asked you why that was you always replied, "the squitos just like me because I am so so so so juicy." I think that was true.

What shocked the rest of us kids were three things, first - you loved any sort of vegetable. It didn't matter what it was, you ate them without any hesitation, much to the horror of your siblings. We thought you were crazy. You just do not lay your cards on the table like that as a kid. Second, you used to sneak up onto the table and dig great gouges out of the butter before dinner. You just loved butter. Mom could not keep you away from it. (But secretly I think she would have joined you in your butter feast if you'd just asked her to sit on the table and dig in.) And finally, your most disgusting habit - eating cod liver oil capsules. Dad used to make us all take vitamins and cod liver oil capsules. To be fair, we took them without much complaint, but you used to pop the capsules open in your mouth and perfume the air with your fish breath. It hung over the table like a haze. Those sitting next to you knew to scoot our chairs as far away as possible to avoid smelling like the hold on a fishing boat. Who knows, maybe you were just hoping the smell would keep the rest of us from grabbing and squeezing you?

Anyway, you grew to be a nice, handsome young man. Seeing you this summer, and meeting your sweet wife (what a catch by the way, she's a keeper) was such a joy. All those memories from years ago came rushing back to me. I remember the day you were born, my brother Bear. Love you tons.