My little brother

I was four years old. I knew that he must appear into my life and I was waiting for him. My mother and father said it.
My mother was walking with a big stomach. She said that my brother was there. However, I imagined, that he would enter saying: ‘Hello. It’s me. Your brother.’
One day they arrived from the hospital. There was something small in mother’s hands, covered in the white drape. I just saw the big eyes on the small face that looked at me. It cried most of the time.
‘It’s your brother,’ my father said. ‘He is your treasure. You’ll love him. You’ll play ball together. You’ll help each other if one of you would need some help…’
I listened to my father and I couldn’t imagine how it could be.
After that as they brought my brother home, I felt that my parents spent less time with me than before. My father played ball with me less often, and my mother was always busy with the small subject that they called ‘your little brother’. Never before, had I felt the loneliness that way.
Once my brother began to walk. Sometimes my mother said me to watch for him not to get out a yard or touch the hot stove on the kitchen. He became my responsibility. However, every time he broke my toys that suddenly became his. My mother said: ‘He’s a small kid with his curiosity. He is learning the world his way.’ I just felt as if my parents had taken my life and given it to him.
Once I fell into a deep ditch. I came home with bruises on all my body. I felt a pain, I was crying but with sorrow about my broken bike. ‘It’s good that you didn’t break your legs or arms,’ our father said.
My brother came and hugged me. There was a huge smile on his small face.
I felt all my pain retreat.
And I didn’t feel sorry about my bike anymore.
My little brother was with me.
It changed everything.
The birds were singing outside.
Air was fresh and light.
And the small man that belonged to me, and I to him.