Family is a funny thing. Sometimes you love them. Sometimes you don’t love them so much. If you’re stuck with them, you don’t want to be, and if you’re separated, you wish they were right next to you.

It’s ironic that what many argue is our society’s most important and formative social unit can create such mixed emotions.

This is never more true for me than when I think of my two little brothers. Of course, they’re not so little anymore. I used to be able to pick them up and move them to where I wanted them or move them from where I wanted to be.

Now they return the favor.

We fought like siblings do, but at the end of the day, we were our best form of entertainment — just the three of us jumping on the trampoline for hours or making mud pies in the back yard. Yes, those cliché things were actually things we did.

I say were and did because that’s not much of the case any more.

This marks the first year that all three of us are in separate places: me here, my oldest brother at college and my youngest at home with my parents.

It’s different; it’s inevitable.

As time has gone by, it’s switched from wishing they would leave me alone to wishing they were right next to me.

Few others can understand every single one of my Spongebob references because no one else was sitting beside me for every episode besides those two.

It’s gone from trying to avoid getting tackled at all costs to bracing for impact with a smile. At least they’re there to do it, right?

I have watched one of my coworkers work through her youngest leaving for college. I don’t have children. I know it’s not the same. But the closest I can get to that is my brothers.
I walked through Wal-Mart with my oldest brother a few weekends ago trying to think of everything he could possibly need in the first few weeks of his sophomore year.

I threw stuff in the cart just in case. Do I have Emergen-C? No. Does he? You bet.

I know it’s not the same level, but I can somewhat relate.

My dad told me this would happen, that we would become closer as we got older.

I only sort of believed him. But it’s true.

Holidays now have special meaning because we’re all in one place. We can make fun of my dad watching The Christmas Story five times in a row together, and watch The Santa Clause because it’s our favorite.

And when I walk through the door for a holiday, I brace for impact and smile.

At least they’re there to do it right?

 

Sarah Mahan is a staff writer at The Vicksburg Post. You may reach her at sarah.mahan@vicksburgpost.com. Readers are invited to submit their opinions for publication.