Having a sibling has taught me many life skills.
First, never leave your food alone. When we were little, having a brother was like having a goblin neighbor. I'd heat up a mug of Swiss Miss hot chocolate, then run to the pantry to grab a pack of mini marshmallows. My brother might not be the best at noticing what people look like or remembering names, but there's no doubt that his nose has a sensor for when I'm about to eat or drink something. By the time I came out of the pantry, his grubby little hands would be wrapped around MY mug and his face slathered with the chocolate brown.
Second, never use the bathroom right after another person. My brother and I used to share a bathroom and being the one that took longer getting ready and getting unready, I was always the second to go. Every time I walked in, it was some sort of King Kong destruction scene- toilet paper unrolled around the floor, bits of tissues flying around, the toothpaste overflooded and caked by minty paste, the mirror splashed with water. Thank goodness his habits drastically changed for the better in his teen years, or else I would have to send a letter to his future college roommate.
Third, be as efficient as possible. This is something that to the day has never changed. Getting into the car after school is a struggle. It's the intense glare when we both see each other across the parking lot, a dare for the shotgun. Then the run. I slide into the seat, my fingers fumbling around the belt, trying to fasten myself in and lock the door. But, it's too late, The door to my right swings open and before I can shriek, my arm is dragged out and my backpack is thrown out. I surrender back to my usual back seat with the broken rear heater.
Fourth and perhaps most importantly, end fights as soon as possible. Fights, no matter who it is, take up a lot of energy.
The way fights end is interesting and depends on the person. When my brother and I get into a fight, we ignore and give each other the cold shoulder for around a day or two, then we forget and life goes on. My mom, on the other hand, ends fights by giving me food. On Instagram, I see a lot of stereotypes of Asian moms. Many of them I disagree with, such as my mom being a tiger mom, because she isn't. She's more of a kitten mom. However, the one stereotype I do see true is saying sorry with a plate of prepped fruit (extra points if it's sliced apples or honeydew).
My family members are all very prideful, even to a fault. Most everyone is to some degree. We would rather suffer in silence than admit that we are struggling or verbally apologize. I say sorry on an average of thirty times a day, between embarrassing moments, arguments, and bumping people in the hallways. It usually takes me five minutes into an argument where I am in the wrong to start apologizing. I used to feel so frustrated that I would rarely hear the words "I'm sorry" back. I always believed that no plate of fruit could be as sweet as a "sorry".
Another lesson I learned from my brother was that many people say something, but don't mean it. Apologizing without being sincere is like adding sprinkles to a burnt cake – it might look better, but the taste hasn't changed. Saying sorry without really meaning it is like using a band-aid on a paper cut – it's not fooling anyone, and it doesn't fix the underlying issue. The plates of fruit, however, are not like these hasty words. They don't take a second to blurt out. It's a whole process of effort and reflecting- washing the fruit, drying it gently, peeling it, slicing it into even bite-sized cubes, arranging it neatly onto a plate. This apology might not come from a voice, but it certainly comes from the heart.
In the grand saga of sibling survival skills, it turns out that guarding my snacks is like defending treasure from Smaug, efficient car entries are the real-life Hunger Games for shotgun supremacy, and sincerity is worth more than the satisfaction of hearing an apology. When it comes to the economy of apologies, a hastily served sorry is like counterfeit currency, while genuine sincerity reigns as the gold standard – it's worth more, and you can't fake it. Another lesson my brother has taught me is to always take the highest standard. So, perhaps I would rather receive a sincere plate of fruit than a sorry excuse for an apology.
To the people that I have hurt intentionally or unintentionally in the past, present, and future, here's to you: 🍉🍎🍉🍎🍉🍎🍉🍎🍉
Cheers,
emma :)