Best buddy

There are days when I want to tell you that I’m sorry.

I want to take you in my arms and tell you that I’m sorry this isn’t what I planned.

My dreams for you and your little brother looked a bit different.

In my dreams you were running around the grocery store knocking cans of beans off of the shelf and blaming each other.

In my dreams you were running through sprinklers and tattling on one another for turning off the hose.

In my dreams you were splashing in the tub together with bubble beards on your faces, only to soon be yelling “he’s in my spot!!”

In my dreams you were running out to catch the bus with your fingers linked together…sometimes.

In my dreams you were teaching him how to ride a scooter, complete with choosing a band-aid after a small mishap.

In my dreams you were best buddies.

But what I am realizing is that my dreams of what your childhood could look like don’t matter. What your childhood looks like now is the only thing that does.

You lovingly push your brother around the grocery store, and adamantly tell me “I got this.”

You swim up to your brother at the pool and ensure he giggles at the sight of your goggles as you come up for air right near his face.

You reach out to hold his hand in the car while he’s crying and remind him over and over that you’re right there.

You exclaim to me that you believe he said your name anytime he giggles and babbles while you two play peek-a-boo.

You remind me over and over that you need to hug and kiss him before we head upstairs to his crib for bed.

At specialist appointments you are more worried than I am and frightened for him when he has to get a lab draw, but reassure him over and over that he’ll be okay.

Wait.

You are best buddies.

Now I really need to apologize. I’m sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. I’m sorry for not believing that a childhood out of the ordinary could be extraordinary. Just because I know your relationship could be so different doesn’t mean you do too. Would you change it? I don’t know?

All you know is that you love your little brother. You have yet to ask me the hard questions. Why doesn’t he talk? Why can’t he walk? Why doesn’t he eat? It’s astonishing to me that you don’t see those things, all you see is him. Your silly little brother who pulls your hair and blows raspberries with you. Your little brother who wants nothing more than for you to make him giggle. Your little brother who loves when you push him fast around the grocery store while I tell you over and over to slow down. Your little brother who eagerly leans in for a bedtime hug. Nothing else matters.

The only thing that matters to you is him. Your best buddy.