Wellington was my brother. He and I were born on the same day of different years. He was born in 1984, and I was born in 1999. I owe him the great fortune of the life I live, and I still pause wistfully at the mention of his name.
You see, Mom and Wellington were satisfied with their lives together. But when Aunt Susan, who was present at my birth, called to Mom that she had to have me... well, from what I hear, though reluctant, Mom considered the events some sort of divine calling.
I don't know if it was divine or not. What I do know is that Wellington, while not enthusiastic about a new protege/sister, was patient, tolerant and (he would kill me for saying this) very 'mothering'.
He was patient. He was kind. He was my protector. It was funny. He would let me get by with any indescretion, as long as Mom wasn't a witness. Once he saw her, he would growl to scold me.
He tried his best to teach me. I swear, he knew everything. He knew what to do and when. He tried to show me how to be, but I was a wee bit resistant, and a wee bit jealous.
What I know now is that he was trying to show my how to take care of Mom. You see, Wellington was the ONE constant in Mom's life. He saw her through all of her losses. He worried about her, and he stood strong for her. And I believe in the end, he entrusted her to me.
Don't ask me how I know... but Mom has a lot of undeveloped film, including many photos of Wellington and me together. I hope she'll have it developed so I can post them here...
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