wouldn't it be nice

I have this younger brother.

He’s the only sibling I have.

In my older years, I’ve learned to put differences aside, although we have very little, and I’ve grown quite close to him.

He asked to borrow $500, I gave it to him without batting an eyelash.

He asked for tickets to come visit my girl friend and I, I paid for him and his girlfriend.

Let me dissect it a little further.

My brother is 3 years and 4 days younger than me.

When I moved back home after I dropped out of college, my mom tried to get me to pay rent even though I had a full time job I was trying to save up to move to Boston with.

My grandma bought, and paid my cell phone bill when I left for said college.

My mom made me get my first job when I was 15, over summer vacation.

I bought my computer with my own money from working and saving.

Now, on the other hand. My brother’s first job came when he was 20ish, and it was for less than 4 months over his summer vacation in college. He quit because he didn’t like dealing with people.

They never asked him to pay for rent while he lived at home and went to college. With no job.

He has a car that’s under my moms name and insurance.

He has a cell phone my mom pays for every month.

My mom just bought him a computer for graduating college.

He again, tried to have another job but quit as they wouldn’t cater to him only wanting 12 hours a week.

I listen to my mom bitch about my brother for hours on the phone, and I listen to my brother bitch about my mother on the phone for hours. I nod my head in agreement with both of them and never utter my opinion.

I was the first-born, I went through the ring of fire and know the wrath of my mother not wanting a daughter, and not wanting children to begin with. I’ve experienced first hand what it’s like to have a mother whose maternal instincts never kicked in. I’ve sat screaming at the kitchen table when no one would help me with my math homework. I’ve taken my own slides for portfolio review and admittance into college.

Every day I delve a bit deeper into the psych that  is understanding  my mother and her thin as a thread link with me.

She’ll tell my brother her communication with me has never been strong. And with me won’t say a word. Or the words she does say are thick with sarcasm and general animosity.

It’s so magnificent to me how truly obvious she is in her maternal neglect to even a grown child.

To this day I still call her a distant older sister rather than a mother.

I digress.

How do you form the words to tell your brother the real world is going to cock slack him when he wakes up to it one day? You can’t always have everything handed to you.