My whole life, I have always had my big brother by my side. We protested
about wearing shoes to the shopping centre together. We got carried in from the
car on a Friday night, sleepy after dinner at Mike's kitchen together. We
bounded out of bed and squared our eyes watching K-TV on a Saturday morning
together. We created potions out of tomato sauce and mashed banana together. We
played and fought together. We swam and played French cricket together. We
enjoyed car-trip after car-trip, en route to family holidays together. We
hunted prawn in the mud and caught fish in the lagoons together. It was always
me and him. Together.
He turned 13 and moved away to boarding school. My life was blue for a long
while, and I lived for the weekends when we woke up at 3:00am and drove,
bleary-eyed, from Jo'burg to Hilton in time for the 10:00am sporting fixture on
a Saturday morning. He acted like a grown-up in his Number 1's. But, when all
was said and done, he always had time for a hug for his baby sister.
I'll never forget my first two weeks at boarding school, just down the road
from his. It was school rules that new girls were not allowed to see or speak
to their parents for two weeks. I was utterly miserable, and wanted desperately to
hear my mum's voice. The smell of her perfume on my pillow had almost worn off
and I was terrified that I would forget her (Standard 6 worries, of course).
Come the second Sunday of my boarding school career, I identified 100% with the
person who coined the term 'Sunday Blues'. With a teary phone-call to Ellis
House, I made one request to my brother. Sure enough, at 3:00pm he arrived on
the school's front lawn with treats and a hot, black-blasered shoulder to cry
on. He had walked 8kms there and 8kms back- just so that I could have a taste
of home.
We have grown up together- in the sense that we have become our own people,
separately but together. His Sunday visit to boarding school changed into
weekend visits to help me re-format my laptop and weeknight cups of tea to
bring me new series to watch. He's even gotten out of bed on a Sunday morning
to help me fix a puncture that I had done a superb job of messing up.
I knew it was coming. We had discussed it as a family over Christmas. He was
nervous, but mostly about the details that he needed to ponder and get right.
He was absolutely sure about his decision. So, when I saw three missed-calls
from him and a strange message from my Mum asking if I had spoken to my
siblings at 11:00pm on a Friday night, I knew his knee had weakened.
And so, just like him- no fuss or frills, he answered the call simply saying
"I just wanted to call and tell you that we're engaged". His elation
was tangible through the phone and I could hear his smile fleshing out his
words. I almost broke the window with my screeching... butterflies in my tummy.
Just like all the things we had done together, leading up to this day, I was
happy. Not for him, but with him.
He's marrying an incredible girl who is perfect for him. She loves him
dearly, and bakes chocolate cookies before he even has to ask for them. He
lights up when he's around her. She's clearly always top of his thoughts. She's
going to be a wonderful addition to our family. And I can't wait to have
another sister.
Congratulations Smelly Dog. You did good! I'm so proud of you. And I love
you very, very much.
xxx
I took some photos from our small engagement braai. It was a beautiful
summer afternoon in Hout Bay and we spent the day sitting around our old family
dining-room table, hearing hilarious stories of the weeks leading up to the
proposal and the day that JR had to endure before his champagne-drinking fiancé
would come home to her ring.
I can't wait for what the future holds.
Love and Gratitude
xx
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