I remember, when I was younger, people often asked me who I liked the most among my siblings. I don’t really prefer any of them, but if asked who stood out the most, I would say my brother. But not because he’s the only guy amongst us sisters. I would always be asked to explain, but I couldn’t. It would sound ridiculous if I tried to explain it out loud. You see, I love my brother because of so many little things.

When I was around ten, my brother left for England for further studies, so I didn’t know him long. In those ten years, he always looked out for me. My earliest memory with him is when I was five years old and I went into his room with a balloon. We played with it for a while. He tossed it to me, I tossed it to him.

At a certain point in our game, he threw it to me a little too fast and instead of heading towards me, it went straight for the light on his study table. The light was on and it made the balloon pop. We watched the balloon as it popped, then we turned to each other.

“Don’t cry!” he exclaimed suddenly, jumping off the bed. “Don’t cry.”

I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t even feeling that bad about what happened to the balloon. To be honest, I was getting tired of lugging it around anyway.

“I’ll get you another balloon right now,” he grabbed the car keys and ran off before I could interject.

Few minutes later he was back with a whole packet of balloons. I didn’t have any use for them, I wasn’t sure I even liked balloons, but he was looking at me, so worried that I smiled just so that he wouldn’t drive off again to get more.

His gesture touched me though. Who cared so much about popping their little sister’s balloon? No one. I’ve liked him even more ever since. He’s more caring than most brothers, even though we talk very little. I think I like that, it makes our conversations special.

Another childhood memory I have of my brother that took place at night when we were heading home from our grandmother’s house. Our two aunts live with their families at our grandmother’s house, and all their children are boys. My brother has always been very close with them since he has no brothers of his own. So he often stayed with them till midnight.

I’ve often been woken up by him ringing the doorbell. One night, he was heading home early and I was with him in the car. Out of the blue, he asked me:

“Do the guys ever tease you?”

Considering how close he was to them, this question took me by surprise. Recovering, I answered in the negative. He asked me again to be sure, and I told him they did no such thing. He asked me this once in a while, even after he went to England. I knew that there was someone looking out for me.

I remember when one of my stories got published in Young World, my cousin made a joke out of it using the nickname ‘Bakri’ he had given me. I wasn’t annoyed by it. In fact I found it amusing and he often teased like that. Once he wrote a whole poem about me as “Bakri” too. It was hilarious.

My brother told him to stop teasing me after my cousin changed one of my stories and replaced wherever I’d mentioned myself to “Bakri”, even though I’d told my brother that I was fine with it. That’s the trait that really makes my brother stand out in our family.

He’s really caring. The proof lies in his actions. All the little things he has said and done are big reminders of the kind, thoughtful and compassionate person that he is. My brother keeps encouraging me. He’d the reason I’m a writer. He saw in me what I didn’t see in myself.

My memories of my brother make me feel close to him even though he’s thousands of miles away now. I hope I become like him when I grow up, so I can notice the little things like he does and learn to appreciate them. If we ever grow apart, the time we spent together will act as a bond between us for the rest of our lives.

Cherish the sibling bonds you have, because it is like no other. Ignore the little teasing and love your family.

Published in Dawn, Young World, March 12th, 2022