Following the theme of yesterday's (ha-ha) post, it sometimes hits me with the force of what I would imagine a speeding train would feel that I have two actual, live, cute little boys.
And that these boys once took over the precious real estate south of my ribs. And that they made me pee a lot and robbed me of valuable food-storing space.
And it strikes me as amazing that they love each other. I hope you will not think it's creepy that I've chosen to write about them for this particular card: love and lovers aren't just strictly about romantic love. Love and feeling take many different shapes, and to me this relationship illustrates the simple power of the card.
Herr Meow, being the older and wiser one, sometimes grapples with moral issues related to the fact that this other being who seems to look a lot like him –though this is possibly not something that's ever crossed his mind except for when we're looking at pictures– wants attention or cries or tries to drool all over his Favorite Toy at the time (the "Favorite Toy" in question being anything that Don Meow has happened to take and might possibly belong to Herr Meow). He sometimes hesitates or shoves unkindly –almost instinctively, beyond thought– and sometimes he acts like a baby and starts to make noise at the same time his brother does.
On the other hand, Don Meow is always ready: one look at that beloved face, and he is off and gurgling and laughing and squealing whenever his brother does anything remotely funny, or even human. A smile or a gitchie-goo or a fart noise will send the little baby into paroxysms of squealing laughter.
For his part, Big Brother does try to control and sabotage a little, but he mostly just wants to hold and hug and carry and make laugh and tickle and hold and hug. He breathes his brother in; he lifts him; he puts him down. He shows him infinite patience even as the baby drools on him or screeches or pulls his hair– he likes it! Do it some more! Until it becomes, "no no nonononooooo," before starting all over again.
They seek each other; they laugh; one cries; one pouts; they seek each other again. It's this pure emotion, this whole having a brother bit, that makes me overwhelmed with conflicting feelings of happiness and wariness and exhaustion and the teeniest bit of envy for that pureness of feeling, that having-a-siblingness that I, much like being able to pee standing up, will never quite know for myself.