There were eleven years between us. He was the big brother, I was the baby boy of the family, and all along I had been looking up to him. When my family disintegrated, it was arranged that I came to live with him.
He turned my next few years into a living hell. I even forgot how to smile, which was no triviality, considering that I had been known as the kid whose eyes had been quick to disappear behind a broad smile.
At the end of these tormenting years, words could not describe how much I hated the man. The loathing was so overwhelming I felt quite helpless, and for that reason all the more resentful of him. It was lousy baggage to take with me on my own bumpy road of life, but it did feel like part of me, and oddly enough I wanted to reject it and embrace it at the same time.
Years went by, many things happened, and I became a man who stood tall and spoke for himself. One day we were sitting at a table together for the first time in a very long time. Suddenly I realized I could look at his face without any anger. Astonished, I did a thorough search of my heart, and all I could find was just calm and peace. I then gingerly held his baby son in my lap, who felt soft and cool to the touch and smelled like spring still lingering around. It shouldn't be hard to love this kid, I thought.
I had never felt such a strong relief in my life as on that day.
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