“Love is a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection”
-Random House Unabridged Dictionary.
I used to believe, my brothers hated me. When I was crawling on the floor, putting my toys in my mouth, they were competing their high school education in the United States. I rarely saw them at home, because they only came back three times a year, two weeks per each break. During their vacations, they were not at home most of the time because of the parties they had with their friends. Whenever they came home, they looked extremely exhausted and went directly back to their rooms. I usually sat in front of their rooms, hoping they would open their doors and let me in. I wanted to play with them; I wanted to have more connections and interactions with my brothers. However, I felt like there was segregation enforced at my home, just like the 60’s expect of it wasn’t a matter of race but age. I never believed they loved me as a brother, until one day.
I was thirteen. During a weekend, I went to my school to play basketball with two friends. Blue sky with white clouds, it was a typical good day. Suddenly three strangers showed up and we played 3 vs. 3. After a while, one of the strangers decided to leave. My cell phone was gone. “It must have been that guy who left earlier”, I said to one of my friends. We stopped playing immediately. I borrowed a cell phone from my friend and called my brothers. I told them that someone probably had stolen my cell phone but two of his friends were still playing basketball with us. My brothers told me to wait for them and they hung up the phone. Those two were about to leave, so I told them that they could not leave. They stared at me with cold burning eyes. Their attitudes suddenly changed from calm to violent and they threatened me, “If you don’t move out of my way, you will be a dead man.” I was scared; I didn’t know what to do. My legs were shaking. I couldn’t move, unable to pull words out of my mouth. Finally, my brothers arrived. They saw the mood of our conversation was abnormal, so they ran to us and pushed the two strangers down on the ground. My brothers brought two gigantic sticks with them. I had no idea where they could find these in such a short period of time. My brothers choked the strangers with the sticks, “Do not mess around with my brother!” I had never seen my brothers behave like that. The ballpark was quiet. Everyone playing basketball stopped. Everybody was looking at us. I saw my friends standing like a rock, holding the ball in their hands like two frozen statues. They didn’t say a single word. They stood there quietly and witnessed everything. I waved to them to say goodbye. I didn’t talk to them, probably because I couldn’t pull anything out of my mouth either. My brothers stood up, threw the sticks on the floor, and put their hands on my shoulders and we left the ballpark together.
On the way back home, I asked my brothers, “I didn’t say they stole my cell phone. I said I ‘thought’ they stole it. I wasn’t certain. What happens if they didn’t steal my phone?” My big brother responded, “So what? I will never doubt my brother. You said you believed they stole your phone, and we believe it too. Plus, I didn’t like the way they talked to you when we entered the ballpark.” At that second, it was the first time in my life that I felt the warmness from my brothers.
My brothers now still treat me as an annoying little brother who might break their speakers or computers if they allow me to access their rooms. However, I know they will always back me up when I run into trouble or support me in whatever I believe. I know all these because I believe in love.
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