So earlier this month, my youngest brother finally tied the knot. And after ten years, we finally took a sibling group photo together (the last time being at my own wedding).
NB: The long interval between my wedding and his is not in any way an indication of how old I am. It’s more likely an indication of how young I was when I walked down the aisle. Or maybe more likely an indication of how OLD my brother is at his wedding.
It’s a big thing trying to wrap my head around the fact that my youngest brother is now married. In the same way I felt at my other brother’s wedding, I am faced with yet another new dimension of this person I’ve known almost all my life I now have to reconcile with.
I still have the clearest images in my mind of him as a chubby, dimpled, bright-eyed little baby. I relished my big sister role with a baby brother to ‘mother’. I remember running after him, bowl and spoon in hand. feeding him rice porridge… reading story books out loud to him… trying to lift him up to carry him on my own (but not quite succeeding).
With the baby in the family now married off, it definitely marks a whole new era for our family. Almost like hearing the sound of the final thud of the door of our childhood shutting behind us.
We’re all grown up.
Sounds pretty heavy doesn’t it?
The truth is, it’s difficult to put a finger on the exact moment when the growing up happens.
I keep flipping up and down between the two images above.
Trying to pinpoint what and where the differences are.
We look the same. Yet different. Older--maybe.
But when did it happen? And how?
I asked my parents this question before:
“When you look in the mirror, do you actually feel older?”
And they tell me:
“I feel exactly the same inside as twenty, thirty years ago…”
That’s how I feel too. When I look at the person staring back at me in the mirror. I don’t really focus on how much more intelligent or prettier or capable that person is. I just see: me. Just me.
So as I look at this picture of my brothers and I, that’s what I see too.
Just us. Three.