Prologue
It will come as no surprise for those of you who do know me,
that Brother and Teagan fight harder then Netflix and Shomi.
But when it comes right down to the thick of it,
I will always love him, sometimes tons... and sometimes just a little bit.
The Fight Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
only one girl was scurrying… dressed *almost* like a mouse.
I checked that the stockings were hung up with care,
with childlike wishes that soon Santa'd be there.
Her family were all snuggled up on their chairs,
as visions of Netflix danced as they stared.
With Mama on her iPad, and Dad snoring “light”
We were settling in for a long movie night.
When out up above us arose such a clatter!
I jumped to my feet to see what was the matter!
Away to the stairwell I flew like a squirrel,
I jumped and I twisted and landed with twirls.
With dim light on the breast of the newly laid carpet,
a smell entered my nose… a smell just like armpit?
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But my younger brother with an 8 pack of beer.
With a scowl on his face and some tension so thick,
I mumbled under breath “could you not be a dick?”
More rapid than eagles, his curses they came,
He pointed and hooted as he called me mean names:
“Childish! Silly! So immature!
You’re wearing a onesie and you’re almost twenty four!
On Facebook, On Insta— you post so much natter!
You’re odd and unlike me, and I think you a tattler!”
As dry heaves that before the wild tears start to fly,
I clenched my fists tightly and shook them up at the sky:
“I understand we might not always get along me and you,
we have differences vast, that often divide us two.
You like to party, whereas I like to read,
you think you’re cool, while I know I’m a dweeb.
You find importance in things like sports,
while I’ve never given two shits ‘bout those sorts.
I am creative and think I’m quite funny,
and think I look great in this flying squirrel onesie!
But though there are so many triggers to fight,
could we put them aside, at least for tonight?”
He was dressed in his pjs Mom bought from Old Navy,
He looked me once over, and with his eyes said I was crazy.
But then, the thin line of his mouth started to crack,
and I knew that he cared, despite the fact that I’m “whack”
His eyes, not quite twinkled, but his smile was a beamer!
I resisted the urge for the zillionth time, calling him Beiber.
The moral of this poem I’ve twisted,
was not with intention to make light of the issues I listed,
but mostly with the hope that with bringing some to light,
would remind other siblings in the world not to fight.
There are 365 days in a year,
so on this day of Christmas please try to spread cheer.
Recognize and appreciate the differences in your sibling “gene”,
and then resume all the fighting in Twenty Sixteen!
