hermano

I am, undeniably, the most spoiled person that has ever walked the face of the Earth. I get what I ask for. I achieve what I set out to achieve. There is no maybe. When I make up my mind, it simply will be. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t get everything I want. Far, far from it. Still, I am the most spoiled person I know. Some people can brag about getting the nicest car for their sixteenth birthday. Others can boast about trips to Europe for summer vacations. Several may even be able to say that they will never have to work a day in their life and still be able to afford anything they desire. I still win. I wanted a person. I got a person. The main reason a person exists in this world is because I wanted them.
When I was nine, my “little sister,” Selah, was five. Selah was not really my little sister, but our folks were best friends, so we have known each other our whole lives. On this summer, our families took a vacation to Eureka Springs, Arkansas, together. One of the places we visited was this old Victorian home that had been turned into an aviary. Each room had different species of birds. It was beautiful. Our parents let Selah and I wander around by ourselves for just a few minutes. In that time, we found this small room that had a little wishing well in it. We both ran and found our parents and asked for pennies. We got them. Back to the wishing well we went. We threw them in at the same time. Selah wished for a little sister. I wished for a little brother. By the time I was ten and she was six, I had my brother and she had her sister. Later, when we would be annoyed by our siblings, we would often look at each other and ask, “Why didn’t we just wish for a dog?” I wish I knew where that wishing well was today.
Now, this may seem only slightly remarkable, and may appear as if it has nothing to do with me being spoiled, only lucky. Well, Selah may be lucky, but I am spoiled. When I was born, my mother had toxemia poisoning. She became very ill and nearly died. In fact, the story is one of the most moving tales I have ever heard. I would tell you, but you would not believe it. I know miracles happen because my mother and I are both alive. I was born a month early, which is not all that dreadful, I was fine. The doctors had called my dad in so he could say good-bye to my mom as she died. God does exist and He can do miracles. Mom’s life is one.
Now, the thing with toxemia poisoning is that it is commonly believed to only affect a mother once. Typically, she will have a normal delivery for the second child. I inherited my superpower of worry from my father’s side of the family. He would never consider having a second child because he did not trust what the doctors said. What if mom got pregnant and got sick again? Dare we expect two miracles? I am sure mom wasn’t in any rush to undergo the experience again either.
I beg and beg and beg for a little brother for ten years. I wanted him more than anything in the world. I dreamed that somehow I got switched at birth and one day my real family would show up and take me away. There I would be reunited with my long lost older brother, twin brother, and little brother. Heredity has shown and I am now fully convinced that I truly did inherit mom and dad’s DNA. No long lost brothers. All the begging and pleading and desperate prayers paid off, though. While they could not provide an older brother nor a twin brother, at the risk that dad’s fears may become actualized, my parents decided to fulfill my request for a little brother. I got my little human. I even got to help name him, Ted. Sure enough, dad’s fears were founded. Mom did indeed get sick again. Ted was born two months early and did not even weigh four pounds. This time, ten year’s advance in medical knowledge, medicine, and divine intervention made the process a little less dire. Many times, when we get what we ask for, we often want to return it. While we fought like all brothers growing up, and drove each other crazy at times, he has always remained, and will continue, to be one of the very most important people in my life. My childhood is divided up into BT and AT—Before Ted and After Ted.
A common misconception is that people who are spoiled think that they deserve everything to be given to them, and never grateful when it does. Well, maybe most are. As we have already discussed, though, I always have within me two very different and conflicting personalities.