Growing up in a family with multiple siblings can have its pros and cons. I grew up with three siblings in one house, all of us fairly close in age. I was the youngest, so that always gave me people to look up to. However, having these people in my life have affected me in many ways.
Having two older brothers and one older sister growing up is quite an adventure. Yet, since I am the youngest, I missed out on a lot just because I cannot remember it. My oldest brother, Seth, is nine years older than I am. Hanna is six years older than me, and Blake is one and a half years older than me. Some memories stick out to me greatly. As the baby of the family, I usually got the bad end of the stick with jokes and pranks. About 14 years ago, we moved into our family house, and that is where it all began for me.
A few years after we moved into our home, I was six years old. We used to have this old shed behind our house. My parents convinced the kids to clean it up, and how they did it, I am not completely not sure. It was the most repelling barn I had ever seen — broken windows, mold everywhere and everything inside was collapsed. My sister and I were sweeping up the inside of the shack. One of my favorite cats, Jack, strolled by casually. It was a nice day.
Later that week, I was watching TV inside in my parents’ room. Hanna came into the room, with something in a shoebox. Curious, I got up and went to look. She told me that I did not want to see what was inside. To a six year old, that is the holy grail. I argued with her and convinced her to show me. She hesitantly opened the box. I peeked inside and I immediately screamed. Sitting in the box, was a huge pile of small animal bones. Hanna told me she found these bones underneath the shed, then continued to tell me it was my favorite cat, Jack, who she had found. I was mortified.
I was wailing and crying. I loved that cat. Hanna convinced me, a six year old, she found my favorite cat, dead. In hindsight, as a 16-year old, I see how idiotic I was, just blindly accepting that Jack was dead, but I was so young. I was upset for the next couple days. After a while, I did not think of Jack anymore because we got new cats that week. Then, when I was about eight, Hanna confessed to me. I was confused about what she was confessing about. She told me she found some random bones underneath the shed we cleaned up and decided to convince me it was Jack, with the help of Seth and Blake. Of course, my older siblings all ganged up on me to get a laugh.
Memories like these make me appreciate the life I had growing up with my siblings. Even though they treated me pretty badly sometimes, it was all for good intentions… sometimes. Nowadays, my siblings and I still argue and fight. It makes our relationships strong and our family a good source of love and light-hearted pranks.
Article by staff member Abby Ruder
Photo courtesy of Interstate Studios