The Hero Prevailed

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"My older brother."

For the longest time when I was a kid, this was my answer. Yes, I am a girl, so this was not exactly possible (not that it would be even if I were a boy, but that's beside the point), but I wanted to be exactly like him. He was my hero, and I followed him everywhere. My first word was "Dis," because I was trying to say Chris, which is his name.

When my brother, who is two years older than I am, started playing soccer, I wanted to be on the field, as well. True, the Gatorade at halftime was a huge incentive, but Chris also had a lot to do with it. Anyway, I also joined a tee ball team when he did. I wanted to play football, but I wasn't allowed. However, I always played the pick-up games in the street with my brother and his friends. Sure, he would complain and tell me I couldn't play and I should go home, but I never listened. I knew he would end up letting me play. And he always did. He even took up for me when other boys complained that a girl was playing.

I even took up golf so that I could be just like Chris. I was so impressed with how good he was at everything, and I strived to achieve what he had. I felt so special when both of us won the youth golf tournament in our city two summers in a row. I chose to neglect the fact that the only reason I won was because I was the only girl both times. That was not important. All that mattered was that I got the same place as my brother.

It wasn't until high school that I lost Chris as a hero. I had always told myself that he was too good to fall into the traps that so often take hold of teenagers. I was wrong, and slowly I no longer wanted to do the things my brother did. I didn't ask to tag along with him places, because I knew it could likely lead to trouble. He wouldn't have let me come, anyway. And there is no way he would have taken up for me.

I am glad I became my own person, but I was always sad that I had lost a hero. It was weird to see Chris as mortal. He did mature a little during his college years, and I even tagged along with him on occasion to play basketball with guys at the YMCA. Just like when we were kids, he would just say, "My sister is playing. She's on my team." Those words were always like music to my ears. And he let be an assistant coach to him for a YMCA youth basketball team. Together, we coached those kids all the way to the city championship.

When my brother officially moved out and started working in the "real world," he started losing touch with the family more and more. Sure, we still see him and talk to him quite a bit, but it's just not the same. He's doing his own thing now, and it's often hard to connect with him. I have called him a few times to do things at the spur of the moment, like play tennis or something, but I usually get rejected. He always tells me I need to ask him in advance for things. After all, he is a busy man and has a schedule.

Well, I asked him in plenty of time to attend a murder mystery dinner at my church in which I was an actress. He wavered back and forth and kept saying he wasn't completely sure. I finally told him he pretty much had no choice, and I would see him there. He's been dating this girl for a pretty decent time now, and I told him to bring her. It would be a fun date. Honestly, I was afraid he wasn't actually going to show up. For some reason it was really important to me that he be there, but I was a bit nervous that I was going to be left disappointed. I'm so glad I was wrong.

My brother actually came to the dinner! Before the show started, I kept walking over to the door and looking out the window to see if I could see him walking up. As the time to start got closer, I decided I should just give up. Then I saw his car pulling into the parking lot! It was such a great moment. I wasn't even thinking about the show; I couldn't have cared less in that instant whether or not I knew my lines (I did, so no worries there). All that mattered was that my big brother cared enough to do something that was really important to be. Yes, he still cared.

I may not look at my brother like he is a superhuman anymore, but he will always be my older brother. I may not want to be him, but I never want to lose him. Besides, he still has his hero moments every now and then.