Mom Loved us Both, Right?

My brother was two years younger. We played great together—before he learned how to talk. He’d even let me put dresses on him and curl his hair. A family story says that in the middle of the night, I fed him a whole bag of chocolate chips—when he was just a few months old.
That all came to a screeching halt very quickly once he learned to say one word: “No.”

From then on, it was WWIII and while we had our moments of cease fire (usually in winter when we were so bored we could only play inside) for the most part, we were at each other’s throats. I couldn’t stand it that I always got punished—and he never did. On top of that, he stole my KISS stickers that came with my first ever album I bought with my own money. (I was nine.)

Mom never caught him doing anything at all. Of course, thinking back, I was probably more of a troublemaker. I did convince him to climb onto the roof of our two-story home with me and it was my idea to play by the forbidden river—where he fell in. I don’t remember everything I did, but I do know that he got to play outside a lot more. (At least that’s how I remember it going.)

I thought we’d fight forever, but as soon as he got bigger than me, suddenly—fighting with him wasn’t that appealing anymore. We got to be great friends after that and I’ll always remember goofing around on hot summer days and hanging out like I’d never knocked him down and he’d never pulled my hair.

Of course Mom always said she loved us both equally, but then—isn’t that what all mother’s are supposed to say? Okay, so yeah, I believe her now. Back then though, I would have told you my brother was the favorite. What about you? Got a sister or brother you’d like to put up for sale?


J.R. Turner is the author of the Extreme Hauntings series. The first book, DFF: Dead Friends Forever is available at Amazon.com, Kindle, Fictionwise, and Echelon Press.com