motomotoyama | Random musings about my family

Growing up, my brother hardly ever called my sister and I by name, and he would frequently refer to us collectively as "the sisters." We still talk like this in my family. "Have you talked to your mother?", "How is your brother?", etc. even though we're all related. I'm not sure why that is, but I suspect that on my brother's part, it's because we had such very different childhoods that it really does seem like we're a unit, completely distinct from him. He has no memories of my father playing the guitar and singing, or walking, or spinning him around like I do. He doesn't even have memories of my father talking, and he certainly doesn't remember how he would yawn like Chewbacca to make us laugh. My dad was pretty sick by the time Evans was born, and the condition just got progressively worse.

Once, Evans has a project to make a mobile of our family using construction paper, string, and a wire coat hanger. He drew

celeste_noelani and I together on one piece, then himself and my mom on another, and finally my grandmother standing on the side of the hospital bed in the living room where my dad spent all of his days and nights, and Evans even included the detail of the feeding tube that went from a bag of ensure on the wall straight to my dad's stomach, since he couldn't swallow any longer.

I don't understand my brother at all, and he probably doesn't understand me, but that's okay.