GrowingOlderHopeWiser

Growing up with two older brothers and a younger sister makes you the middle child. I was their younger sister for the first six years of my life. They targeted me for all sorts of fun and games during that time. Then, my sister was born six years after me.

My brothers loved playing games with me. Their favorite was tossing the ball over my head. This made me run back and forth, thinking I had a chance to catch it. Another game involved putting me in their home-built box car. They pushed me down a hill but gave no instructions on braking or maneuvering the vehicle. Hide and seek was also among the fun and games. I would hide, but they disappeared with their friends. I just sat there, waiting for someone to come get me.

They weren’t always mean to me. Ricky was always my protector; nobody else but him and Jimmy got to tease me. If they did, they would get a punch in the nose.

My sister became my responsibility. I had to entertain her and discipline her when she got older. Responsibility that I did not want at fourteen years old. But, with my mother working very hard, long hours, and our chaperon off drinking her beers, I was it.

The older we got, the more we fought. She had a bad case of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity. It made it very difficult for me to put up with her nonsense. One time, she got me so angry. I swung a machete at her just as she closed the door. I was thankful for that. I had fun with my sister as well in Miami Beach. We would play across the front of our building on the actual beach. Our favorite games were treasure hunting pirates and “Cuca Manca” (the boogey woman with the missing arm). I’d chase her around with one arm behind my back. We made that game up!

It was not always so difficult with her. As we aged, we got along very well. Once she had her first two babies, we spent a lot of time together. Sadly, we had another big falling out, and I had to distance myself from her. But I still missed her a lot.