Patrick

Patrick is my younger brother. As a kid, he was your typical annoying little brother. He still is sometimes, but he’s generally a very good guy. He may have been annoying, but he was never really mean; that was my job.

I think I remember when he was born. I was staying at grandma and papa’s house. I can remember going to the hospital to see my mom. I can remember being in an elevator. I had a toy or book or something with me, and I was worried about it falling in between the cracks by the elevator door.

I don’t know what I thought about having another kid in the family. In videos and pictures, I hug and kiss him a lot. I think I probably thought he was kind of like a doll, but more fragile. I think I knew he wasn’t my doll, but my mom and dad’s.

Another time at grandma’s house, I’m told my brother was having a bath in the downstairs bathroom. He ran out and slipped and hit the coffee table and had to get stitches. This is the story I have always been told; I have always felt, however, that it was me that pushed him, because I always felt so guilty about it. Perhaps grandma was covering up for me, or maybe she just didn’t realize that I did it. Or maybe I didn’t do anything at all.

One time, I remember going to some special dentist with him and mom because he had to have some teeth pulled. I played with toys in another room, and I didn’t like hearing him scream a lot.

One time, my family went to Fantasy Island, and he got lost in the water park. He went into a slide or tube and didn’t come back out the other end. My mom grabbed my hand and pulled me around the park looking for him. We eventually found him, but I don’t really know how it all happened. I remember a lady asking my mom if she was the one who’s kid was missing, and I guess expressing sympathy or saying she would look out for him or something. I wrote a short story about this incident in Mr. Reble’s class in a writing exercise to show that we could write using the five senses, and I got a bad mark on it.

Patrick is basically my best friend and probably always will be. We watch all the same (bad) movies and listen to the same music, so we know all the references that each other makes, and sometimes, it’s kind of sad. We’ll see something on TV or someone will say something and one of us will make a Simpsons reference, and the other will say, “I was just going to say that!”.