February 19, 2011

Here I Am...Stuck in the Middle.


That's me in the middle - the chubby one wearing the dress - bracketed by my two handsome brothers: Dale (older by 22 months) and Kelly (younger by 3 years). Other than our DNA and pug noses, I've always felt our strongest commonality was the fact that we were all given androgynous names. Which says more about my parents than I care to examine right now.

Growing up, Dale was the older brother who terrorized me with such antics as loading my diaper with pea-sized gravel and persuading me to push raisins up my nose. Although the atrocities are endless, there are really only two I've yet to forgive him for: 1) peeing in my toy box with an aim so precise that my tiny teacups were filled to brimming; and 2) giving away MY tickets to a 1974 Elvis concert, thereby squashing my only chance to meet The King. The best thing I can say about pre-adult Dale was that he allowed me to hone my combat skills into an art form.

And then there was Kelly. Ahh...my sweet baby brother Kelly. The arrival of every one of my protective instincts coincided perfectly with his delivery...via the stork. Given his sweet and passive nature, those instincts have only heightened though the years. Kelly and I became the unified Defensive Duo in our unholy sibling triumvirate with Dale. We learned at an early age the advantage of pooling our limited resources against the common menace of our big brother. In fact, the only time I ever remember getting irritated at Kelly was the night I invited my 15 year old boyfriend over to meet the family. As we sat uncomfortably on the couch staring longingly at each other, my sweet baby brother walked into the room, took one look at my feller and said, "Hey Dickie...how's your hammer hanging?". I ultimately forgave Kelly when he admitted under duress that he had been encouraged in his bad behavior by...you guessed it...Dale, The Terrorist.


Kelly was the one I rushed home to after school each day to share and transfer all my new found knowledge. While Dale was the one who tattled on me at school for showing my panties on the swing. Kelly and I would play together for hours with my Barbies and his GI Joe. But only after wasting valuable playtime hunting and gathering all the doll heads Dale had hidden around the house like well-coiffed Easter eggs. I personally take credit for making Kelly the wonderful father and well-adjusted man that he became. The fact that Dale turned out to be just as wonderful and well-adjusted is one of the great mysteries of life.

Truth is, now that I'm all grown up...I could not love my sweetly seasoned bear of a big brother more. Our roles have changed somewhat...Dale the Bully is now Dale the Patriarch. He's the Caretaker, the 'Fixer', the Go-To Guy. This man who once delighted in decapitating my Barbies, would undoubtedly now be the first to step into the fire for me. There is no one who believes in me more.

Kelly, ahhh...Kelly is still his same sweet self. He's the quiet one in a family filled with obnoxious loudmouths. Because his measured way of speaking makes him seem so much smarter, he is the one we all go to for thoughtful counsel, knowing he will never judge but unfailingly support.

Me...I'm still the pesky little sister that misses no opportunity to make fun of my big brother...the bossy big sister that forces my little brother out of his comfort zone. It's still a puzzle how three people from basically the same lump of clay can be so different and unique...yet unfailingly come together as a united force, should the need arise.


Today, if we glance at each other, we might notice the lines and wrinkles time has left behind. But when we really look at each other, all we see is each other's hearts. Hearts that hold the shared struggles, triumphs, joys and disappointments of our conjoined lives. We share private family jokes and precious memories untouched by time. I know the exact buttons to push that will make Dale's face flush red with anger. I know what Kelly wishes to be, if wishes came true. I know I can beat them both in leg wrestling. We have our own understanding of the tribal laws and code of ethics established among ourselves over the years.

I will never believe it was a mere accident of birth that made us siblings. Instead, I am convinced that that God knew exactly what I would need to make my way through this fearsome world, and He loved me enough to put me right where I belong...stuck in the middle of my beloved brothers.



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