Today is my brother, Ari’s, birthday. He’s forty-one today, which still makes me his older, wiser sister.

We’ve gone through a lot together, and I know how blessed I am to have him in my life.

Here’s the thing about siblings: they’re the only people in the world who grew up in the same household you grew up in, which means they know ALL your secrets.

The good, the bad, the ugly.

They know this, because they were there, and they remember.

They remember how nutty your parents acted, what your family’s  issues were, and what you looked like in the morning without makeup. They probably know things you try to forget. Like the time you failed a test, weren’t invited to the “in” party, or got dumped by the boy you thought you loved.

I have such fond memories of growing up with my brother, Ari.

I remember the time he thought it would be fun to fill my mom’s Volvo up with water, to make a swimming pool for all of us. Or the time he stole the plumber’s keys, locked them in the the poor man’s toolbox, and then refused to tell anyone where they were.

He was always doing something to make our lives better. Once he tried to chip away the brick foundation of our house, and then when that didn’t work, he slapped some white paint on the brick, to give it a new look.

These “acts of kindness” didn’t go over too well with our parents, and I must say, I enjoyed every minute of his suffering. The more he did, the better I seemed.

It was fun growing up with him.

It meant I had someone I could blame for anything and everything that happened. We lived next to this sweet woman when we were little, Mrs. King, and she had the most beautiful flowers. Flowers I wanted to keep. Forever. They were pink and purple, and I adored them. She spent HOURS in her garden, tending to their delicate little needs.

“Dara, did you pick Mrs. King’s flowers?” my Mom would ask?

“Of course not,” I would say, “But I saw Ari pick them.”

He would get punished, and I would get cookies.

This is how things worked for awhile. But then one day, he was taller, bigger, and stronger, and I had to release my delicate hold over him. He could take me down in an instant, if he wanted to, and I knew this.

As we got older, we played in the woods, rode our bikes together, and although having a brother meant I was always stepping on a Lego, he was my companion. We were in it together. We were the only two kids who were fortunate enough to have our Mom and Dad as parents.

But we didn’t always get along.

When our Mom passed away, maybe the grief got to be too much, and we went through a spell where we hardly talked. I remember once, being at my Dad’s house, and Ari and I having an argument. My Dad was tired of his kids not getting along, and told us in a very calm voice, “If you two don’t work it out, I’m putting you in the car, driving you to the cemetery, and you can sit with your Mom and hash it out.”

That pretty much shut us down.

There really wasn’t anything to say after he put it that way.

Today, Ari and I are as close as siblings can be. We talk all the time, are there for each other, and travel through life together. We’ve had wonderful happy times and incredibly painful moments, but we’ve gotten through them together.

Having a sibling is a true blessing. If you’re lucky enough to have one, take the time to strengthen your relationship, spend time together, and enjoy each other. If you don’t get along, fix it.

Now.

You might have other friends and people in your life, but the history you have with your sibling is irreplaceable.

Happy Birthday, Ari! I love you!

Find meaning each day,

Dara