My brother is 18 years old today and this is for him.
When he was born, I was 8 and we had just moved back from Paris to Beirut. It was 1993, still a city covered in the rust of war. We lived at my grandmother's, my little sister and me, and my mom couldn't leave the house because she was nine months pregnant and if the electricity cut off she'd have to walk up three floors.We'd pick up the phone and we'd have to wait patiently for the line to come; the only milk available was powdered Nido and I couldn't even stand the smell of it; and the only thing on TV were the local channels and "Mini Studio" was the only watchable show.
I remember when my mom taught me how to change his diapers and how he peed on her while we were changing him. I remember when she let a flock of his hair grow long at the back of his head. I remember when he was four years old and we teased him on how he had a big penis and he ran all over the house screaming and crying that no, no, he didn't have a big penis. I remember him in his superman costume that he'd wear as pajamas. It was a time when we had a full house, and we'd wake up Sunday morning, my sister, my brother and me and prepare breakfast for our parents. There was still five of us back then, coffee for two, pancakes for all.
Everything is different now. It's like we're on another planet living in a different dimension. The world changed for this little boy when he was seven years old and he lost his mother, but watching him changes my perspective of the world everyday. When she was no longer around, I would put him to bed every night and tell him stories about her so that he would never forget. We'd talk about all sorts of things before he'd go to sleep and once he told me "sometimes my penis wakes up before me" --and I thought it was the cutest and funniest way anyone has ever put it. It was at that time that we came up with Papadopoulos together, an inside joke that only a few will get. When I left for New York, he was still a little boy. Over the phone I would hear his voice change and barely recognized him when he picked up, and every time I would visit, I'd find him taller, with little hair starting to grow on his face. By the time I came back he was a fully grown teenager. He'd receive dozens of texts a day from a dozen different girls, all crazy in love with him. He is that guy, you see, the ones all the girls are in love with.
And today he's almost a man. The world he was born into --it doesn't exist anymore. What we've learnt along the way is that nothing is predictable and anything can happen. But what always remains, throughout, is the love that you can only share with your siblings. And when your brother tells you you're "the woman of my life," you know you've done something right.
When he was born, I was 8 and we had just moved back from Paris to Beirut. It was 1993, still a city covered in the rust of war. We lived at my grandmother's, my little sister and me, and my mom couldn't leave the house because she was nine months pregnant and if the electricity cut off she'd have to walk up three floors.We'd pick up the phone and we'd have to wait patiently for the line to come; the only milk available was powdered Nido and I couldn't even stand the smell of it; and the only thing on TV were the local channels and "Mini Studio" was the only watchable show.
I remember when my mom taught me how to change his diapers and how he peed on her while we were changing him. I remember when she let a flock of his hair grow long at the back of his head. I remember when he was four years old and we teased him on how he had a big penis and he ran all over the house screaming and crying that no, no, he didn't have a big penis. I remember him in his superman costume that he'd wear as pajamas. It was a time when we had a full house, and we'd wake up Sunday morning, my sister, my brother and me and prepare breakfast for our parents. There was still five of us back then, coffee for two, pancakes for all.
Everything is different now. It's like we're on another planet living in a different dimension. The world changed for this little boy when he was seven years old and he lost his mother, but watching him changes my perspective of the world everyday. When she was no longer around, I would put him to bed every night and tell him stories about her so that he would never forget. We'd talk about all sorts of things before he'd go to sleep and once he told me "sometimes my penis wakes up before me" --and I thought it was the cutest and funniest way anyone has ever put it. It was at that time that we came up with Papadopoulos together, an inside joke that only a few will get. When I left for New York, he was still a little boy. Over the phone I would hear his voice change and barely recognized him when he picked up, and every time I would visit, I'd find him taller, with little hair starting to grow on his face. By the time I came back he was a fully grown teenager. He'd receive dozens of texts a day from a dozen different girls, all crazy in love with him. He is that guy, you see, the ones all the girls are in love with.
And today he's almost a man. The world he was born into --it doesn't exist anymore. What we've learnt along the way is that nothing is predictable and anything can happen. But what always remains, throughout, is the love that you can only share with your siblings. And when your brother tells you you're "the woman of my life," you know you've done something right.
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