A Big Enough Band-Aid

"He's an angry old man," the first text says.

"Get over here," the next reads, barely a minute apart.

I sit in my chair, contemplating what to do.

"What made him upset?" I reply, my phone click-clacking the question.

Moments later, I'm still confused, as this plea is the only reply: "I have no clue I just can't deal with him today."

And so it goes.

As I rush to leave the house, another text arrives. "It's just dad. It's how he is to me. And mom gave me a 5 minute talking to about something that wasn't my fault. I don't really care anymore. I can't do anything right for them anyway."

I'm the big brother, caught in this situation time and time again, each time just as unaware how to help as the last time.

I love my parents with all my heart. However, they have never accepted anything less than the best from us children. I struggled to survive 17 years under their roof.

Growing up, I was a horrible child. I did everything wrong. They criticized everything from my choice in friends to my choice in clothing styles. Even though I’m married, my mother still lectures me about my hair.

My 17-year-old brother is still trapped at home, pressured to be the best. And after a while, when all a child hears is the negative about himself, it’s hard not to build up walls to protect what's left. It's hard not to face each day with dread.

So he texts me for help.

And I remember. I remember how it was and how it still is. I remember the verbal jabs, the insults, the expectations. My brother texts for help, but I’m afraid I don’t have the answers.

If only I had a Band-aid—something to cover the hurts and heal the past. I guess that’s what I keep trying to do—with my presence and words, I try to calm things down and soothe the pain.

Texts keep rolling in while I drive to the house prepared to smooth over the situation yet again. As I turn into the driveway and put the car in park, though, I worry that one of these times, no Band-aid will be big enough to cover the wounds.

Image by Stephan Geyer. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr.