Greetings, Ripplemakers

Sorry, Little Brother
by
Stehvin Walker

 We both had our chores to do, my brother and me. When we had finished them we would get our allowance at the end of the week. Ah, how we counted the coins until we had acquired enough to buy whatever our current desires dictated.

I collected figurine horses. If it was autumn and the county fair was in town I'd go and spend my coin on those horse racing machines. I started off winning the small metal horses and worked my way up to one of the larger ones the carnival barker displayed for the "better players." The other horses I'd get would come from the Sears catalog and were usually cheap plastic. On the more fortunate days our father would take us to our town's toy store. They had better plastic horses there. Collector's Editions. Those were my favorites, overall, with the exception of a large, beautiful ceramic horse I'd seen while walking downtown with my grandmother. It was in the window of Roscoe's Five & Dime and I remember staring at it. Wanting it! I had a great grandmother. She didn't have a lot of coin, herself, but she saved special for my brother and me. That handsome ceramic horse held a special place of honor in my bedroom.

Now my brother went through phases and spent his money accordingly. For two to three months it might be that he had to have certain comic books. He also collected models. For a while he had airplane models. Then he progressed to classic horror movie models: Frankenstein, The Mummy. One late summer came along and he decided he desperately wanted a life-sized, glow-in-the-dark skeleton made of cardboard. He had ordered it from one of his comic books. Every day after school and on Saturdays he fidgeted until the mailman arrived, thinking the mailman would have his skeleton. He must have waited two months or so because it seemed to take forever before his order was delivered.

I recall his glee when he held the package in his hands. His face lit up and his eyes were so bright and wide they looked big enough to lift the skin of his face clean off his skull. His mouth was open somewhere between a shout of triumph and gasp of amazement. He finally had his skeleton!

I believe it required some assembly with brads and stick-em circles for eyes and such. He went at it studiously, with a mind to perfection. He hung it proudly on the inside of his closet door. He left the door open so all would glimpse the scary specter upon entering his room.

But siblings will be siblings and we had our fair share of living up to that phrase. We'd have nasty little fights. Fists, elbows, knees and feet going at it. Mean little kid words flung at one another. All manner of theatrics. Seemed we were always trying to top the other on the level of ugly things we could do to each other.

Then like a brilliant flash of ingenuousness I had thought of a rotten "I'll get you for that" action. I'd tear the leg off his skeleton. When I announced this my brother went into shock, disbelieving. We were outside when this transpired. I ran back into the house and tore down the hall, spun into his bedroom and lunged straight for the skeleton. I gave it a moments hesitation, then promptly ripped a leg off.

Shortly after my evil deed, my brother came scrambling into his room. His eyes were wide with disbelief and pain. He then began reciting; "You didn't do it. You didn't do..." But I had. The severed leg was on the floor and he had seen it all. He slowly stepped over to his ruined skeleton in mourning, dispirited.

But it didn't take him all that long to arrive at a suitable solution. He ran into my bedroom and I followed. He took my ceramic horse in his hands and pointedly told me he was going to sit on it. I shouted, "NO!" A sad smile crossed his face, backed up with an expression of determination. He placed the horse underneath him, and sat, crushing the horse to pieces too small to glue back together.

He then ran from the room, crying for his skeleton and I was left with my shattered horse. He wasted no time lovingly taping the leg back on the skeleton. (He hung that skeleton in his closet each Halloween for years, taped leg and all.)

I know then that he had been hurt deeper by the damage done to his skeleton than I had by his busting my horse. And I know a great deal of that pain was his disappointment in me.

For years I harbored his pain and my guilt over that incident. Then one day while shopping for groceries in a store that featured Halloween ornaments I saw for sale a skeleton very similar to the one he had. This one was even better made. I bought it!

When next I saw my brother, I presented it to him with my apology. He looked curiously at the gift, then asked what I was apologizing for. Not knowing if he was just putting me on, I told him I'd never forgotten how mean I had been by tearing the leg off his skeleton, and I hoped he'd accept my apology. He responded by saying he still has that old skeleton, with the taped on leg, and that he didn't really need another. He still loved me and wasn't mad at me. We hugged and I held him tight and long. I made him take the skeleton, anyway. I love him, and I imagine I'll always remember what I did to him by tearing off that skeleton's leg. He may not remember, but I do!

Copyright 2003 by Stehvin Walker
paavarr @ yahoo.com
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I call the hills west of Davis, California home. I have enjoyed writing since my early school days. I've also dabbled in watercolors and oils, and tried my hand at various musical instruments. But writing has been my mainstay. I love the mountains, the coast...anyplace away from the rush of city life

Stehvin Walker

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Stejvo??™s Website:
http://www.geocities.com/paavarr/StehvinWalker.html

"Does the light of the lamp shine without losing its splendour until it is extinguished; and shall the truth which is in thee and justice and temperance be extinguished before thy death?"--Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

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May you be blessed today.
Bob Johnston
Editor / Publisher

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