move

I’m reading Three Weeks with My Brother by Nicholas Sparks (author of The Notebook and Message in a Bottle, among others) and Micah Sparks, his brother. In this autobiographical narrative, the two brothers take the trip of lifetime: an around-the-world trip. They leave their families, embarking on an adventure with one another, discovering new cultures, and, in the process, rediscovering their brotherhood and the power that goes along with that.

I’m the odd one out usually. I’m the oldest. I’m the female. I’m a type A. I’m introverted. I’m single. I’m different. I’ve had experiences in life that no one in my family can quite understand, try as they might

Threes aren’t usually good numbers (despite it being the magical number of Schoolhouse Rock). It’s harder to divide things up. It’s harder to have phone calls. It’s harder to decide who gets front seats in cars, and who gets the best rooms when deciding sleeping arrangements. It’s harder to decide where to stay when there are two homes to choose from.

todd

As I’m reading the Sparks’ words, I’m overcome with this intense appreciation for my brothers. Even in this dynamic, where I’m included so often, I’m the odd duck. I’m not a brother. I’m not a middle child. That’s where it all ends, though. These two brothers of mine, who could not be more different, have one commonality: they love me.

I know, like the Sparks, that my brothers and I have been rocks for one another. It was only last Friday when Shadow and I stood in my storage unit, getting things ready for a yard sale, and we were talking about our relationship. He said to me (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t recall his exact words, but this was the sentiment), “I know that no matter what, you and Todd will always be there for me. No matter what. I can’t say that of anyone else in the world. Even spouses aren’t bound by the same fidelity that we, as siblings, are.” I agreed. It’s a very special, very deep bond that we share. Who else in the world would understand why we do some of the things we do? No one else has that wealth of understanding besides our siblings.

shadow

Even our sister, whom we love very much, cannot understand. She’s ten years younger than me, missing out on so many of the events that shaped our young lives. She has a different relationship with each of us, based upon those experiences. But Todd, Shadow, and I lived a life that is shared.

In one chapter of the book (a book I borrowed from Todd’s office a few weeks ago and need to return before I move, btw), the brothers Sparks are in Cambodia. They have just visited the Killing Fields and are humbled and saddened by the events that took place there. As this story occurs, interwoven is the story of their youth. At this point, Nicholas Sparks has married, become a father for the first time, and is moving across the country, away from his father (his mother had recently passed), brother, and sister. And I’m struck by this. While our circumstances are different (I’m not married, not a parent, and don’t have a deceased parent), there are many similarities. He writes,

I could feel the tears coming, but tried to hold them back. We’d come to depend heavily on each other in the last three years, but I tried to diminish the significance of what was happening. I told myself that we were simply moving; it wasn’t as if we wouldn’t see each other again. I’d come to visit him and he’d come to see me. We’d talk on the phone.

I can feel this event coming. I called Todd a few weeks ago and said I’d like to visit him and and his wife one final time before I go. I probably made it sound so final because he said to me that it wasn’t as if I was dying. We’d visit. We’d talk on the phone. But there is something more to it. There is a tearing of these powerful bonds that we’ve worked so hard to create. Distance makes things different. Living one state away isn’t so bad. It still feels like that person is very close (at least that’s how I felt when he lived in California). But I’m moving to an entirely different cultural section of our country.

I’m worried that I’ll be forgotten. I’m worried that no one will visit, that I’ll be lonely, that I will no longer be included in THE FAMILY. That maybe my family will be better off with me gone, and they’ll be glad for it. I worry that I don’t have any anchor…that there will be no reason for them to want me to visit. I worry.

I know it’s not true, but it’s how my emotions are getting the best of me.

The Sparks write

In the house were a thousand memories; in my mind, I could hear mom’s laughter from the kitchen, and see my brother and sister at the table. For the second time in my life, I was leaving my family, but this time was different. The last time I left, I’d been a teenager; now I had a family of my own; I knew I’d never be moving back.

In this town, there are a million memories: proms, graduations, houses, cars, weddings, births. I left and came back. I was drawn back. Now, when people ask me if I’ll be back, I say probably not. I will go where the work takes me. Flagstaff won’t be my home. I will be a visitor, someone who remembers what this town used to be like, when my brothers and I swept in like a storm, playing air guitar, becoming pool sharks, and learning how to love one another.

I hope, maybe after I graduate, that my brothers and I can take a trip like the Sparks brothers. I want us to experience new things, to share and enjoy one another, and learn from one another.

A lifetime with my brothers may not be long enough.