I Am Not A Pig

You are a pig.

I am not a pig.

I’ve known this for years.  Why do I know this?  Because you have told me this all through out my formative years.   So in return I made sure you were aware that you are pig.  After all, if we are siblings, wouldn’t we be of the same species?  Of course.

It’s still kind of odd to me that we spent so many incredibly long wonderful years growing up together.   And now?  We seldom see one another as a group.  I get it.  We got old older and have obligations and responsibilities to our children, and our work, and our life that no longer centers around the childhood nucleus home.  I don’t have any problems with that.

Until I realize…you are my brother.  You are my sister.  And we no longer get to be in the same place, calling each other names, pushing each other around, and generally learning about life in the same place.

So I wanted to let you know…life isn’t the same without you around.   I know I know, it’s not suppose to be.  But since we aren’t in the same place any more I thought I would tell you that despite you throwing crab apples at me, and despite me having to clean out your crappy filled cloth diapers by hand, and despite the bruises we mutually inflicted on one another, and despite the fact you always stole my pop (soda to those of you who suddenly got snobby) all of the time, despite you always getting to ride shotgun, despite you always ratting me out, despite all of the angst of growing up….there are many  things that matter more.

In addition to all of the despites there was also:  always someone around to watch TV with, always someone to be in the house with so there was no fear of being alone, always someone else to blame, always someone else getting yelled at with me, always someone else to laugh with, always someone to conspire with, always someone to talk to, always someone to get a roll of toilet paper for you if you got stuck in the bathroom without any, always someone at school with you, always someone smarter than you to help you with math, always someone who felt bad for you if you got in trouble (even if you deserved it), always someone to play first bounce or fly or kickball in the backyard, always someone so proud if you did something really great, always someone to fight with, play with, have an air band with, eat breakfast with, there was just always someone with.

And when dad died, there was not one of us who had to suffer alone.

For the most part we’ve all gotten kind of adult like.  Even though there’s an immediate flash back to being ten when I answer a phone call and someone bellows “Pinky!” from the other end.   And when we do get together there is no one else who knows just the right things to say to piss each other off, or to make each other laugh.

We’ve been around through each other’s successes, and each other’s failures.  Neither of which impresses us enough, or bothers us enough to change the love…unless to strengthen it.  And when things happen that we can’t help…our helplessness is a burden.   And a heart wrenching pain.

Though life has turned us in to adults it can’t take away the role we have in one another’s lives.

My brother, my brother, my brother, my sister, my brother, my brother, my sister:   you are a pig.  And no one else on the face of the earth knows the significance of that now affectionate childhood taunt like we do.

You are a pig.   I am not a pig.

 A Long Time Ago

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37 thoughts on “I Am Not A Pig

  1. Victo Dolore says:

    Aw! I love pork. 😉 (Terrific post!)


  2. What a wonderful photo and post. I really loved this post Colleen.


  3. You’ve captured the sibling relationship rather well!


  4. And I’m envious–in the best of ways, I hope! I just admire a large family and think it would be wonderful to have so many siblings. I do see such a blessing in having a community of brothers and sisters. This was lovely to read, Colleen.


    • Thank you Debra. 🙂 It’s amazing to be able to look back and see some of those moments with a twisted smile in place of the screaming insults of “PIG” . 😀 And it is a blessing, each of them.


  5. I am rubber, you are glue. Everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you? ❤
    Love this post Colleen; again you have me thinking about my brother!
    Diana xo


  6. This sure brings back memories, Colleen. This post shows what a warm and wonderful family you grew up in, Colleen. ❤ ❤ ❤


  7. Love that photo. Beautiful family. Really like the write up as well. 🙂


  8. cindy says:

    dammit…..kinda crying at work.
    Get out of my house!!!!


  9. Patrick says:

    Very nice, Pinky. Now if you don’t cut it out I’m going to call the garbage men to come pick you up… 😉


  10. reocochran says:

    This whole family photograph made me smile and now I will refer back to it, when you have stories about brothers or sisters. We were not allowed to call each other names, which I was surprised for a few sentences, then realized it was all done in fun and smiling at this ‘pig’ (and ‘Pinky’ from Patrick) reference, too. Oh, by the way, my brothers and I called pop the same as you, but my Mom said out East, in New England, she learned shakes were called ‘frappes’ and pop was called, ‘soda.’ Maybe it comes from overseas and it is not meant to be snobby? Not sure? smiles for the brother and sisterly love expressed.


    • Oh we still use our nicknames!

      And we used ‘pop’ all the time we were growing up. Now that some of us are adults they suddenly use the word ‘soda” and we only tease them that it is snobby. Like suddenly the word ‘pop’ isn’t good enough for them. 😉 Its part of that sibling stuff. 🙂


  11. Mustang.Koji says:

    This riding shotgun thingie… This must be really burning a hole in your brain. 😮


  12. tarafaherty says:

    This is awesome, Pink! I was telling one of my patients just yesterday about the garbage man….too funny!! Love these trips back in time, thank you so much! Love you sister 🙂 You are NOT a pig 😉


  13. niaaeryn says:

    That is so sweet. Nicknames for the siblings, classsics that never go out of style. Mine was Ms. Mary Sunshine said with sarcasm as I am not a morning person then…or now actually. Coffee help. 🙂


  14. markbialczak says:

    Nothing like rolling around in the mud together to develop the love, my buddy Colleen. You delivered the emotion wonderfully, friend. Oink!


    • MBM, My Dear Mark, this was a lovely comment. 🙂 I truly loved it. And there were actual days we kids tromped through the mud in play or work at the farm. So your comment touched on something so real.


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