Candy Land--an older brother's perspective

 

 Candy Land might be the worst game ever created. Every game is the same. Draw a card. Move your token. Next turn. Draw a card. Move your token — and so on. There are no decisions, no strategies. Just mind-numbing repetition until someone finally reaches the candy castle. Or so you might think, because inevitably, right before someone wins, the worst will occur. As if the candy gods themselves are punishing you for daring to wish the game would end, the person in the lead will always draw the gingerbread, sending them back to the beginning. Despite my vitriol towards this game, I have probably played it hundreds of times. It's my little sisters' favorite game, and I would do anything for them.

     My mom's family is massive. The middle of 11 kids, she always has stories to tell. Ask her about any sibling and she can go on and on about them. However, the stories of one brother remained seemingly untold. "Jason?" My mom reflected when I enquired one day about the absent uncle. "I don't have many memories of him. He was so much older than me – more like an uncle than a brother." I was crestfallen. The gap between him and my mom – 10 years – was less than that between my youngest sister and me. Was this to be my fate? To be barely remembered, let alone loved, by the little sisters I adore? I determined at that moment that I would do anything to avoid that future.

    

 This is my last year at home - my last chance to create enduring memories. Soon I leave on a mission, followed by college, and eventually life on my own. Never again will I have the same ability to influence, love, and care for my little sisters. Every day, I do as much as possible to show them that I love them: playing superhero-doctor-barbies, going to the park, or even just giving them hugs and telling them that I love them. Through all this, I hope that one day, when their kids ask about me, their answer will be: "Will? He’s always been my favorite brother. Have I ever told you about how much he loved Candy Land?"

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Despite what Will's essay says, I do have many early memories of my brother.  I always thought he was so handsome and cool.  He spent the last few summers he was home earning money teaching sailboating at scout camp.  One summer he was at scout camp and some girls were on the other side of the lake at girl's camp.  They went out in canoes and then, as rumor has it, they purposely made the canoes tip over so that Jason would come and rescue them.  When I heard the story I thought, "Of course they did, he's so handsome."  I also remember when he would babysit that he'd play Boogie-Man with us, which really just meant he'd scare the heck out of us.  Jason was (and still is) an avid reader.  He always had a book in one hand and a drumstick in the other.  I learned how to say, "Pasar la leche, por favor," or Pass the milk please, from him. One Christmas we drew names and I got Jason and was so excited to give him a gift.  I had no money, being only eight or nine, so my mom helped me make chocolate marshmallow cookies for him.  He acted so pleased with his cookies, just like Will acted when he found the somewhat deflated red balloon on his bed from his Secret Santa (AKA Felicity).  When Jason left to go on his mission, it was my first real experience with loss.  We moved a lot and I said goodbye to many friends but Jason was the first person I really loved to leave.  I cried the entire way home from the airport.  When he came home from his mission, he quickly left to start school and met his wife on the bus that took them to Idaho.  He got married soon after.  My family lived in Indiana and he continued his life in Idaho and then, when we moved to Utah, he moved to Iowa and we never saw them often after that.  Distance and different seasons of life meant that we simply never became very close but I still love and appreciate having him as my oldest brother.  

When I started having children I never intended to have such a large gap in children.  I also didn't intend to have three boys so close in age.  When Laila died, I realized that I suddenly had a family of older boys and a family of younger girls.  I realized that the girls would probably grow up feeling about their brothers the way I feel about Jason, with fondness and love, but with few memories.  I always felt sad about that but trusted God knew what my family was supposed to look like.  When we began homeschooling, I realized that one of the blessings of our decision included the opportunity for the girls to see their brothers daily in a way that they never would have if we sent the kids to school.  I have always hoped that we could create a closeness and love in our family that would be lasting, breaking through walls of age and distance.  I cannot predict the future.  I do know that if Will and Isaac, and even Eli expect to have a close relationship with the girls, there will need to be effort on both sides because their lives will feel seasons apart very soon.  I hope they will all value each other, be patient as their younger siblings grow through seasons they've outgrown, and wait with happy anticipation for them to catch up.  Then, maybe it will feel like time never really passed.  I hope they always look out for each other and always show interest in each other.  Sometimes I remind the older boys not to judge a 30 year old Piper (or Felicity) by 10 year old Piper.  I tell them, "Just wait.  She is going to pleasantly surprise you if you let her. She'll emerge from her immature and emotional teenage years with so much to contribute to your life if you don't leave her behind."  I hope the boys remember that 15 year old Felicity, who is left home alone with her not cool and old parents, still really needs her brothers. I guess time will tell, but I'm optimistically looking forward to many more "candyland" games.