Big Brothers Aren’t All the Same

Lonely evening of James' departure.

Thick rain closed in and didn’t let up for our last two days together. But James and I were content to rest quietly aboard Swell, reading and chatting and enjoying our last bit of time. We laughed at the ways we were turning into our parents, discussed the state of the world and how we planned to approach life in 2010. I watched him as he turned the pages of his book and thought back to our younger years together…

I still looked up to him the same way I had then. Having a sister two years younger had to have been a drag at times. But James had never shooed me away like most older brothers did. I’m sure there were moments with his friends around when he would have rather I disappeared, but he never let me know it. He had always made time for me when I needed him. When I’d ridden with him to my first day of highschool, he’d walked me up the hill and helped me find my classes…and then did the same when I followed him up to UCSB a few years later.

Regardless whether I screwed up or he had ‘told me so’, his big brotherly love never wavered. Post-college, I was sleeping on his tattered green leather couch in uptown Santa Barbara, living out of my old Volvo station wagon, jobless, depressed, and disillusioned with the world. Never did he complain about my sullen presence, eating his food and strewing my things about his living room. He had greeted me every morning with positivity and support, assuring me that it would all be okay, inviting me to hang out with he and his friends later, and offering an ear if I needed one. He had always been as solid as stone, yet gentle like an afternoon breeze. Never forcing, just softly suggesting the reason and wisdom that always seemed to come to him so readily. I felt so proud to show him who I had become since those miserable days back on De La Vina St. He had believed in me from the start, before I had even believed in myself.

As he walked toward the white jet on the tarmac the following day, tears streamed down my cheeks. I sobbed a little into my pareo, not really because I was sad—more because I already missed him, because I loved him so much,  and because I was so happy we’d been able to share this special time together. I knew he and his wonderful wife had grand things ahead of them. There was no reason to be sad…we were continuing down our own life paths, but with the continued certainty in our back pockets, that if all else failed–we had each other…

Thank you, Jamesy! I love you!