My Brother and Me

This is my favorite photograph. My brother Jarred is the one in the white shirt. Until we were in elementary school, I was the big brother. Then, he started to catch up and grew past me. I thought, Wait! He's supposed to be my little brother. For a while I hung onto the fact that Jarred is two and a half years younger - emphasis on that extra half. He's always been more athletic and sociable. A guy needs some prestiege. Ugh Ugh Ugh Ugh. Jarred's size was always a joke. We wondered how he grew so much bigger than me. Then I broke my neck... One day we were practicing what my family would do if I fell to the floor. They tried this technique and that technique... but nobdy could get me up. Then Jarred chimed in. Why can't I just do this? he asked, then picked me up like a sack of feed. That was his technique for tossing me around. Jarred has tossed me uncountable times since then: to bed, the car / van, a park ride, even the floor -- yes, the floor. He says I deserved it, okay, I did deserve it, and actually laid me on the stinkin floor. Something about me pestering him. Talk about paybacks. I love my little brother. He's been my back several times since I broke my neck. He helped me do my stuff after -- and sometimes instead of -- taking care of his responsibilities. We got a lot of fun out of loking about him being my big little brother. That has proved true in several ways. But, when I start thinking of me and Jarred, I always come to this picture.