Big brother was a bully to me, not the protecting, preserving hero I envisioned.  I was born with no chance of self-esteem, his taunts and teasing never leaving me with a moment’s rest or reassurance about the woman I could become. 

Pulled my long dark hair, laughed at me while his friends looked on.  Backed me in corners and spit in my face over some stupid situation.  Those are my fond memories of family life.  Barged in on my book reading and sneered at my method of escapism. 

Kicked me while I was down.  That was your job, after all, your God-given right as first-born.  Be mean now, because you can always make up for it when we’re older.  I must forgive you, after all.  You are family. 

Someone forgot to tell you that we’re grown now, both of us parents of sons and daughters, who will hopefully have a better relationship than we did.  Bullying and bickering days long gone now, or should be.  I suppose I’m lucky to be alive, or at least lucky to be sane.

I’ll give you this much"you raised sibling rivalry to an unmatched level, as though torture of little sister was an Olympic sport. I would gladly award you the gold medal. Yes, you would have first prize.  There is no doubt in my battle-scarred mind.  

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