The Big Brother

I grew up with brothers. The kind that bullied me, made fun of me, treated me like “one of the guys” maybe a little too often. Anytime I’m telling a story I sense them saying “ugh hurry up” even if they’re not in the room. Don’t get me wrong, I love them for all they are. I know they’d be there for me in a heartbeat if I needed them, and though it may not be the easiest thing in the world for them to express, I know they love me too. And while I have great big brothers, I also grew to see the importance of having other “brothers” who could be there when my brother’s couldn’t.

I met this secret person when I was in an awkward teenage phase. Right after middle school. He was kind of like the big brother that every sister wants, but doesn’t exist because if he’d been related, he wouldn't have been as cool.

In my teenage years, I did a lot of things on my own — without friends to accompany me. We all did, really. I went to camp one year by myself. I don’t know why I did this. I liked going to camp when I was younger, but it wasn’t like the greatest thing in the world for me. I enjoyed it, but looking back I only ever enjoyed it because of the friends I went with. Regardless, I went alone, and my first day there I kind of hated that I decided to go. My sister and mom had driven me there and both of them knew that I was getting off on the wrong foot. My sister disappeared for a few minutes. When she showed back up, they hugged me, climbed into the car and drove away leaving me with a bunch of weird girls who had made the same dumb decision I had. We were alone together and I think we all wished we were somewhere else with other people.

The first day I was sitting in our cafeteria — I think we were getting ready for some big team event. He came up to me and introduced himself. Turns out, he was my sister’s best friend’s fiancé, and while he never told me, I put two and two together — when my sister disappeared, she had gone to find him and probably said something like, “Hey my sister’s here and alone and will you hang out with her to make her feel better.” So he did. Throughout the week, he would talk with me, hangout with me, laugh at me. He would ask me what I thought about the lessons and told me about the plans he and his soon to be wife had. It was fun to have an unfamiliar face become more familiar over the week. He wasn’t too busy for me and he made me feel less alone.

Over the week the two teams competed in different activities. At the end the winner got an ice cream party. His team won, mine didn’t. While the other team celebrated, I sat on a porch swing that overlooked the green campgrounds. I was probably journaling or reading, and out of no where he came and plopped down next to me. I was again, alone, but he asked, “hey, you want my ice cream?” Later that day, we did the traditional cook out and bon fire. As I sat there, he came and sat next to me with some other friends, and we reflected on the week. Things I’d learned and what I was looking forward to going back home. We’d only known each other for a week, but that night he established himself as my big brother. 

Due to scheduling conflicts, my family couldn’t come get me, so it’d been pre-arranged that he’d drive me home. He was going to spend time with his fiancé, and she lived in the same city as I did. So another counselor, my “big brother”, and I climbed into a tiny pickup and drove home. 

Throughout the summer, in the spirit of an old camp tradition, we wrote letters back and forth. About camp, about the summer; nothing deep, just normal stuff. I hear about him from time to time from my sister who is maybe the best person at keeping up with people. I’m not sure what all they’re up to these days, but I will always remember him as the guy who befriended a lonely girl and made her feel less alone.