Brother

 Few people can honestly say their brother or sister is their buddy, but that is something I can honestly say. Growing up, I never referred to my brother as “Kevin,” just “brother.”

My brother and I are about 3 years apart. When I was born, I would lay in a bassinet (as babies usually do), and my brother would lay on a bench, chair, or bed above me, and swing his arm. I was thrilled. I would giggle and babble with joy over his hand- ah simple times. Sadly, this would probably STILL entertain me.

When I was two, my mom took me with her to Iowa. I was gone for a few days. My brother came with my dad to the airport to pick me up. As my mom and dad were walking, they looked down and saw we weren't there. They looked behind them to see my bother walking with me, holding my hand through the airport, thrilled to see me.

I have a HUGE family on my mom's side, and one year we went there for christmas. There is a video of the whole thing. I was about 4 and my brother was 7. One of my uncles was dressed as Santa. My uncle was handing out presents. He called my name and acted like I had no presents. “aww, no presents for Kelly!” Not understanding sarcasm, or my Uncle's sick, sick sense of humor, I walked away defeated. In the background of the video, you hear a little voice saying “here's a present for Kelly! Kelly has a present!” He walks up and gives me my present, and once again, I am thrilled, both that my brother remembered me, AND because I got to open presents- basically the best part of Christmas when you're 4.

This asshole 7 year old boy used to pull my ponytail on the bus. His name was Lonny. He even had the name of a jackass. LONNY. Anywho, he was pulling my ponytail on the bus one day. My brother decided he didn't like that very much and he decided to teach Lonny a lesson. My brother fought him, and then got suspended for fighting. After he had been suspended, I started to get nervous and recant my story.

Technically, I had my first job when I was 11. I was a dog walker for this lady who lived across town. One day, my dad couldn't take me, so my brother walked me there while he rode his bike. On the way there, he ran into a pole, split his chin, and needed stitches. I didn't understand the seriousness of it, so I let him bike back and never told my dad. Yup, I got in trouble for that one.

One night my brother was feeling horrible and he needed to be rushed to the hospital to have his appendix removed. Early in the morning, probably 2am, my dad walks into my room and tells me to get dressed because Kevin needed to go to the hospital. He's gone for like, 5 minutes, and then he can't find me. At that point, I am all dressed and just sitting in the car, waiting to take “Brother” to the hospital. Brother needed me, I was so ready.

When I used to get picked on, my brother taught me how to box in our garage.

There is no one else who I can just sit and recite lines from Tommy Boy, Billy Madison, and obscure Saturday Night Live skits. At any point, I could call him up and blurt out a line from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, and it would be completely normal.

It is for all these reasons, that my brother, will always be “brother.” I may or may not embellish stories now and again to get him to beat the crap out of someone for me.