Sweet Big Brother
Today Amir got home from school carrying a small stack of papers. He was excited to show me his artwork, which was sheet after sheet of gnarled and tangled scribbles he had drawn with colorful markers.
Behind every piece of art, he had written his name, a skill he has been perfecting for a few months now. “Cool, Amir!” I exclaimed. “I like seeing all your art! And you’re writing your name so well!”
I was proud. Truth be told, I was startled, too. Here was my older son — once a baby who, in the long, pitch-black tunnel of postpartum anxiety, I believed would never fall asleep without being nursed — independently accomplishing a rather complicated task. That is called perspective, and every day I thank Amir for providing it. Perspective is helping me mother another baby.
I snapped out of my retrospection and continued rifling through the papers. Then came my favorite; a sheet on which Amir wrote RAJAN clear as ever — even clearer than his own name. I was started again, this time over a big brother’s first tribute to his little brother. This particular piece of art will be cherished for sure.