There is a small gap between my brother and me. It’s so small it barely counts as space. Every other sibling in my household has wide age gaps but him and I. Just two months, really.
Sometimes I wonder what my parents were thinking, because two months after I arrived, my mother was already carrying him.
We grew up almost at the same pace, sharing seasons, hand-me-downs, but my mom said we were in some kind of feud with each other while growing up.
Now, somehow, he looks older than I do and no matter how many times I remind him, he refuses to accept that I came first.
We argue about almost everything and disagree about small and big things. We both never call a spade a spade just because we don’t like to agree with the other. Literally arguing about things that don’t matter at all. Lol
But beneath allat noise and fighting, etc there’s a familiarity so deep it doesn’t need explanation. My brother is my constant contradiction, the one I clash with most and also the one who understands me without effort. He mirrors me in ways I don’t always like, but always recognize.
On the surface it might look like we just want to tear each other apart but he’s one person I know that can offer me one of his organs if need be.
That small gap between us never became distant. If anything, it somehow stitched us closer even though we rarely show it on the outside. Him and I are two lives running almost side by side, separate, but never apart.
He is my brother, my almost-twin and my sweetest argument.
My response to the freewriters daily prompt
