It's late, my parents and sister have already gone to bed. I lay in my bed, the warm light from my lamp casts light across my room. This light, so much smaller than my bedroom light, still manages to light up the entire room. My light may not be as strong as Father's, but it still shines. Be it science or faith, light and dark cannot co-exist.
The fan blows my still damp hair in my face, I brush it back as I stare at the ceiling. The cardboard dragon model above my bed spins in the breeze created by the fan. It's blue and white scales make it as a frost dragon. It's long shadow spreads across the ceiling, looking for a place to land but doomed to fly forever. I give a snort of laughter as I recall how this past December Tristin and Ayden had told in about the monstrous frost dragons they had fought in their computer/video games. They had been so excited and eager to tell me of their conquests and of the magical creatures that hold all three of us in awe.
I pause for a minute, listening to the music coming through my mp3 player. Again I hold back my laughter, thinking of the look on Ayden's face when he introduced me to TobyMac. He had thought I didn't like it, yet today I've listened to this album three or four times. I'll probably have it memorized by tommorrow.
My eyes move from the dragon to the tall white bookshelf at the foot of my bed. Tales of the Kingdom, The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Circle. I smile, Tristin Ayden and Aric all pushed me to read that last series. I finally gave in and ordered a set after Christmas. Those books have helped me understand love in a way had never though possible. Yet another thing I have to thank my brothers for.
At the foot of the bookshelf is a small wooden treasure box. Letters from Mexico, a rosary, a candle, a photo and a blue chopstick reside inside it. All of them are from Aric, my gifts from a close friend and brother. Sometimes I pull the letters out and read them. Laughing at his adventures on the missionary trip, and fingering the wooden rosary he brought back for me. I play the chopstick, wondering is Aric still has the matching one.I look at the picture of the two of us at prom, thinking of how excited we where to dance in a castle, despite not knowing how to dance.The candle fills my nose with the sent of lemongrass, my favorite. I can remember when he went to the store he bought it at on our one evening out. Next to the chest, on the bottom shelf are two binders. One is filled with my first and only completed manuscript, the other is Aric's. The creative fantasy worlds that we helped each other create. On rainy days I flip through them, amazed by how much we have grown with our imaginations and a pen.
Next to the white bookshelf is a small brown one, under my window. There, on the bottom left shelf is a pitiful collection of CD's. Red, Manic Drive, Skillet and Newsboys. Ayden introduced me to Red, and even gave me one of the two CD's that I have by that group. I giggle, then stop, not wanting to wake my sister or Dad in the adjoining rooms. Ayden took me to my first concert, I've only been to one concert without him, actually. He was with me when we heard Manic Drive for the first time. This past year he has helped me grow in my faith by using music, or lectures where Aric used his pen.My fondest memories of my last year in the Asylum were of the weekend long concert I spent with Ayden and the rest of the youth group. Sometimes I play his favorite Red, Skillet or TobyMac songs and try to figure out why he likes them so much, and why I agree or disagree with him. Like writing, music has a flow a plus that can affect the lives of people around the world. The pen and music is what gave me my faith back.
On my west wall, next to my mirror is a picture, Tristin gave it to me on my birthday. He spent over a month drawing this detailed picture of the library we both dreamed of yet never had. I grin at the way he had complained about how long it took to draw every single tiny book on the endless shelves. I love it, at least once a week I go up to it and look at his signature in the bottom right corner. It's a friendly little wave that reminds me that he really did draw that medieval underground armed library just for me.I looked at the back of the picture once. Tristin's favorite smiley face, the head of a dismayed man (he may have been in pain, I couldn't tell) a half erased celtic knot that beat any that I could have drawn and the phrase "It's equal." Whether that is just his doodles or something meant for me, it brings a smile to me face.
These gifts, given in passing are tokens of the love that resides between siblings. I've never told Tristin how much I love it when he calls me "sis"; it makes me glow on the inside. The way I can't stop smiling when Ayden runs to give me a hug when he sees me at church. The feeling of trust when Aric tells me of his problems and how he has fixed other issues. I belong when they give me these small gestures. I strive to impress them, to live up to their expectations as much as my parents'.I want them to know I listened to what they told me and that I love them too. A few times I've had bad dreams about letting them down, though as of yet I haven't done anything too major. Aric still want to know what I am writing and always offers his help and thoughts.Tristin told me he was proud of me several times on my graduation day and kept apologizing for not being there. Ayden did the same, and continues to tell me about how much I am going to love being at college this fall.
My eyes move back to the lamp and to the new Bible laying next to it. If these boys see me as their little sister, how much more so my Savior, Jesus? I may not have any letters, music or pictures from Him, but His love for me is stronger than any shared by two mortals. In my ear, TobyMac continues to sing "this ain't no ordinary love." He's right, this is a special love, one that needs no gifts or tokens, yet Jesus still gave me one. His gift for me is in my heart. I can feel his arms around me when I close my eyes. This brother gave his life for mine, Tristin's, Ayden's and Aric's. I don't know if he'll call me '"sis", but the love of a brother is unique and I have learned to recognize it, thanks to Tristin, Ayden and Aric. I only hope and pray that the love of a little sister is enough for all four of them and that I don't abandon my eldest brother.
The song changes, taking my thoughts with it. I roll over, glancing around my room once more. Before long this won't be my room, I'll be gone to college. What will I take? What will I leave? The letters, the music, the picture? The stories we all told and listened to? Will I leave them behind and start anew, like so many of my classmates are doing? Will do the opposite and take the past into the future? I stretch, my fingers brushing the smooth, cool cover of my Bible. Is it the past, the memories that defines who I am, or is it what I do with my past? I turn off the lamp and take out my earbuds, the player goes to sleep as the last song ends. My Bible, letters, music and picture will come with me; to remind me to stay in touch with all four of my brothers and make new memories with them. A new beginning does not mean an end to the laughter of the past, and I want to have their friendship and support for the rest of my life. I flip my phone over to find a text from Ayden: G nite sis. Sleep well n God bless. Love ya. Yawning, I save the text and send him a similar one back before pulling the sheet up to my ears. Some nights, like tonight, I can feel Jesus sitting on the foot of my bed. He's watching over me with the love and wisdom of a brother as I drift into the dreams he wants to share with me. I hazily wonder what he has in store for me, Tristin, Ayden, and Aric.
