My older brother Ado and I grew up inseparable. He's almost 2 years older than me and throughout our childhood, people always assumed we were twins.
Since he's a bit older, my earliest memories involve him, our big collection of toys our parents provided, cookies and all kinds of sweets, since our parents were in that line of business, and later on, hunger, despair and fear one learns to live with, since we grew up in Bosnia during the war. But we were kids, we adapted, we pushed through it all with our vigor and glee nobody else except kids have, with that ever living optimism which never left our hearts. And throughout those years of war, during which he almost died due to a granade which blew up our roof, our brotherly bond only grew stronger.
The war ended and our lives continued, but so did our struggles, for it was a difficult time. The country was recovering, the economy was weak and the money was scarce. But again, our spirits pushed through thick and thin, and we grew, evolved as individuals, became men, for nothing teaches you to be a man more than the hardships you overcome.
And today, for almost 3 years now, we are on different sides of the world. He was back in Bosnia at the time I left and came to Bolivia. I felt a part of him resented me for leaving, but in the end I knew my happiness is something that brought him joy. He's in Germany now, living in a small, idyllic place in the mountains. He has a good job, peace and tranquility which he always strived for, and I couldn't be happier.
And even with today's technology and means of communication, I still miss him and can't wait to see him. It's been a long time, and the day we see each other will be a happy day indeed, a long and joyous occasion of talk and laughter of which, for now, we only dream of.
