February 20, 1985.
Tonight, mom and dad told us a special secret. Mom is actually having another baby. I think they thought we'd be upset because they looked nervous. But we all got up and danced in a circle. Not Greek dancing. Just jumping all over the place in a circle. I really can't wait!!!
I'm so glad I documented that moment. That experience. That memory. Thank goodness for childhood diaries. You'll have to picture the passage above with lots of squiggly underlined words, overused exclamation marks and pink bubble hearts all over the page. But I remember that night just as I had written it. Nervous parents. Crazy happy children. Dancing in a huddled circle. It happened exactly like that.
That night spoke to all of us. The clear and identifiable voice of family. It was the first glimpse that our lives as we knew it, would be forever changed.
Because Peter did change our lives. He completed it in the most unmistakable way. He was the perfect little ending really. The sweetest finale. And I don't think we knew something was missing until he showed up to fill that void. That empty space we didn't even know was there.
I am the eldest of the four and Peter is the baby. And with ten years between us, I have such incredible memories of rocking him to sleep and singing lullabies to him and snuggling in for that sweet baby smell. I remember his cooing smiles, the very place he took his first steps and the way I used to make baby palm trees out of his fine infant hair. And even though Peter is my brother, he's always brought out a maternal instinct in me. I've always been a little protective, a tad apprehensive and this deep- seeded need to shelter him has always been present.
We share this bond he and I. This hybrid relationship of sibling-parent-child.
We also share an irrational fear of flying and a love-hate relationship with horror movies. A love for good food and family and tacky jokes. A real appreciation for story telling and history and family dinners. We're both fiercely argumentative and perhaps a little hot blooded, qualities that have served us well, but have often resulted in heated discussions and fiery debates.
Passionate. That's what we are.
But somehow, in the midst of our fast-paced life, Peter grew up. He graduated from university and moved to a city far away from here and met the most perfect girl.
And in two months, my littlest brother will be someone's husband.
Imagine that.
Now that he is about to embark on the most important journey of his life, I’m overcome with emotion. For the sweet boy that once was and the wonderful man that now is.
But for me, Peter will always be the baby I cradled in my arms. The little boy who blew kisses when I went out with my friends. Who lingered by the door and waved goodbye. The sweet little darling who waited for me after school with cookies in one hand and a fuzzy gingham blanket in the other. Who walked around with a collection of Berenstain Bear books under his arm, defaced with his signature scribbles and chocolaty fingerprints.
And ever since he was a child, his zest for life has been vibrant and free and bright- and that has never changed. To the core, he is still that darling boy with a big heart. The biggest in fact.
Even though he doesn’t know this, one of my very favorite things in the world is when he calls from Ottawa and asks what I’m making for dinner. And after I desctibe the meal, he always responds with "can you make that for me when I come home??”
He sounds so little. Just like that sweet baby boy I so vividly remember.
And truly. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than being able to do just that.
P.S Pete, if you’re reading this, I developed this recipe with you in mind. It's this perfect combination of sweet and tart. A well-balanced, thick, concentrated syrup. It's totally something you'd love.
And yes.
I’ll make it for you the next time you’re home.
