In Between

It's time for Five Minute Friday. Today's writing prompt is in between.

Except for the first four years of my life, I've always been in between. In those earliest years, I was the little sister and the youngest child and grandchild. And then my brother came along. He arrived as Hurricane Agnes roared and swirled and danced angrily around us our little house on Halleck Street. I remember waiting with my older brother and our neighbor, "Aunt Al," for my dad to come home and reveal the arrival of a little sister or brother. I was terribly upset that I had another brother ... not because brothers were bad; more likely because I wanted a real life doll to put in my baby carriage with Raggedy Ann and Andy

Forty-some years later (how can that be?), I'm glad I grew up in between two brothers. If I'd had a sister, I fear that we would have been the fighting, mean kind of sisters, not the Hallmark ideal of sisters who share secrets and giggle over boys. God, thankfully, blessed me with friends who are my chosen sisters.

But back to the brothers. We each very different, but in some ways the same. I can see the indelible markings of our birth order and upbringing - either because of or in spite of - in our personalities and life choices. Our beliefs span the political spectrum (which can lead to lively interactions that give me a headache). Two of us live near one another, one is far away. One is single, one is married with two younger children, one is an empty nester after having helped raise step-kids. We majored in sociology, business and political science in college. We all love to read (thanks to our mother's commitment to taking us to the library). Our personalities are different, which can be very good and very challenging. We are not emotionally open with one another, we're not a touchy-feely, bare-your-emotions siblings.

But this I know. When the chips are down, I know my brothers have my back and I hope they know I have theirs. Sometimes it's the simple things like listening, sending an encouraging card or e-mail, or saying "I'm proud of you." Sometimes it's the bigger, tangible things like showing up at a funeral of a sibling's dearest friend or taking over a responsibility when one of us has a crisis in our immediate family.

During my growing up years, I wasn't thankful for growing up between two brothers. And while some of those frustrations still intermittently rear their childish heads, my perspective now shows me that in between is right where I'm supposed to be.