I'll show you how to gleek.

I wonder if the way a relationship will turn out is predestined. If you can tell how things will be, by the way things first are. I wonder if I could know how my relationship with my older brother will be by looking at how it was when we were kids.

When I first came home from the hospital, Cory was my protector. He was my living shield from any would be kidnappers; anyone from well meaning priests to cheek-pinching-gift-giving relatives. I've been told about the time that Cory barricaded my bassinet with his three foot, 40 pound body and went into a near panic attack when my Uncle Joe came over. I wish I had a memory of that incident. I can just picture it.

Cory is standing in my parents bed room on his tip toes trying to peer over the edge of my bassinet. His pudgy three year old legs straining to be just one inch taller. Then off in the distance he hears it, my mother: "Oh! Sure, she's a wake. Come on you just have to see her, she looks just beautiful in that sleeper that you gave her", my mother trying to suck up to my aunt and uncle for the umpteenth time.

I can see Cory turning around and see mom come flouncing into the room with Joe on her heals and Teresa trailing behind carry 11 month old Nathan in her arms. To anyone over the age of three, it's just an annoying family visit. One that involves long boring talks, and cheek pinching. But to my new big brother, it is a troop of Nazi's storming the border with evil intentions. He must protect my honor, but he's three so what can he do? He can scream that's what he can do. And he does. He stands in front of the bassinet, and lets it rip. Hands clenched, face red, tears streaming down his face. Releasing a noise that can only be compared to the screech of a jungle beast. I wish I could have seen my mother's face. Utter shock, disappointment, and embarrassment. How could something that came from her body ever act like that?! Of course the sound would startle me awake, and because Cory was crying and I would be inevitably crying, Nathan would have to join in as well. Teresa would undoubtedly be disgusted that the wretches in the Barrett family had made her little baby cry, and they would leave; and in an unforeseen turn of events, Cory would be victorious.

However, in the years to come my protector would become my tormenter, and eventually my mentor. Years of "physical and psychological" unlike anything that a POW faced. But for just one day, for just one minute, Cory had been my hero.

I wonder if this is how we will be once again. Now that I have proved my loyalty by not hating him, and he has matured beyond the point of finding some sort of perverse pleasure in my pain. I wonder if now that we are adults, we will have the picture perfect relationship. Somehow I think not, but somehow I don't really want to. Picture perfect predictability is no fun. I'd much rather see who could withstand the longest Indian burn, or spit the farthest. I don't so much even mind a permanent bruise on my right shoulder. I wonder how my visit for thanksgiving will go. I hope it's like old times, only a little less painful.