Dearest Timothy Ryan

Dear Timothy Ryan,

My blood, sometimes I wish we were born twins. It certainly would have saved you a couple years of mean big sister torment.  Alas, it was not in the stars. You, my baby brother were born four years after me, fat as pumpkin with thick brown curly hair. Born the year of the horse, 1990. 

I want you to know that I would choose you as a brother even if our DNA did not already do that for me. You are the only one I feel this way about in my entire family. If I saw a girl hurt you, I think I would beat her ugly. If a guy threatened your life, I might just take his. I was a bitch to you when we were children. I found it cathartic to beat you up when I was around the age of ten, give or take a year or two.  Remember that time I picked you up by your tiny hands and swung you in circles until I was dizzy, then released you and you went flying into the kitchen cabinets?! 

Oh! What the hell? I thought it was a riot at the time, who knows what you were thinking, but you took it in stride, never the cry baby, a brave boy. No, you were stoic. I was just jealous and didn’t have anything else to abuse other then poor Milo the cat. I am sorry Timmy, I truly didn’t know any better back then. I had an absent father and a mother who was cold and cruel to me. I watched as she showered you, her son, with affection, attention and love. Smothered and suffocated is a more appropriate depiction. I think you would agree, either way, it did not have a positive effect on you. 

I do not know how you managed to get out of our childhood as relatively unscathed as you are. You are an angry young man, but you mean well and you are the best brother I could have wished for. 

Sometimes, when I think of you, our age difference does not seem as different anymore. 

We are now young adults in our late twenties, with children of our own. 

By the stars! What were we thinking? Let us hope they do not have the hex. 

I wish I had been a better example for you. I tried to teach you things, about life, how to be tough, how to look your enemy in the eye, but I know I could have been more convincing if I had not been my own breed of coward. I do not think I had much to offer. Forgive me for not setting a better example.  You are so clever and handsome. You look much like father did. You are funny like he was too. Please know that just because you inherited some of his positive traits,

 does not mean you are doomed to be a monster.

You may already know this, but it cannot hurt to hear it from your sister.... you deserve to be happy.

You deserve a young woman that will be loyal to you.

Who will see the best in you and cherish it.

When she sees the unflattering things, she will not run, she might not adore them but she will love and accept them just as well because they are a part of you.

You deserve to have someone whose mere presence will encourage you to be a better man.

You deserve to have a feeling of safety in your home, and that may be up to you to provide.

I know you can do that.

You already are, for yourself and for your beautiful daughter, your family.

Thank you for existing and loving me back the way I love you brother.

Mary Catherine, Cowardice Queen